Me? Miss you?


These are not tears for I do not cry,
No trails of wetness, salted tears
puddling, falling in my ears....
Or blackened patterns from wounded eyes.
Trails of mascara, telling lies.
No histrionics or swollen cheeks,
vacant orbs in need of sleep,
Only I can set these free
These things are a part of me,
Never showing fear or pain
holding tightly to my reign
Holding tightly so I won't fall
exposing me a fool to all
Sparkling wetness glistens still
I hold it in, it will not spill.
And draw a pathway to my soul
where he had tethered his control.

~SAS~