Tears start

In the heart.

Emotions turning into liquid

Rising upward like butterflies

Spilling out through my eyes

Unscripted.

 

Salty trace

Down my face.

Each saline drop a piece of my soul

Falling in rhythm on to the ground

Feelings which exit without a sound

No control.

 

Interesting thought

Could they be caught?

May a lovely silver flask be filled

With these drops, and used to nourish

Something alive, to help it flourish

And rebuild?

 

The answer’s no

Because the flow

Happens in many stops and starts

Like emotions, unpredictable where they land

Impossible to catch them on command

All their parts.

 

Feeling better?

No, not ever.

Then these heartfelt drops seem to have no use

So my tears are my prison, they have me in thrall

Why spend my time thusly, when they’re no good at all?

No excuse.

 

Productive energy misplaced.

My problems are not erased.

You were right.

 

What a waste.