The Tears
I'm drying up.
The swelling of my heart.
The tears just don't come.
Except for tears of self-hatred,
And tears of loneliness,
And perhaps some self-ashamed tears of self-pity.
These are the tears of self-indulgence.
Tears for my dying mother.
Tears for my dying grandmother.
Tears for my non-existent father.
These are the tears of pain.
The tear exits my eye, stage left.
It slides down my cheek into the upper spiral of my ear.
It rides the roller-coaster of the cartilage.
Around and around.
I flinch as the wetness enters ground zero.
I do not move.
The swelling of my heart.
The tears just don't come.
Except for tears of self-hatred,
And tears of loneliness,
And perhaps some self-ashamed tears of self-pity.
These are the tears of self-indulgence.
Tears for my dying mother.
Tears for my dying grandmother.
Tears for my non-existent father.
These are the tears of pain.
The tear exits my eye, stage left.
It slides down my cheek into the upper spiral of my ear.
It rides the roller-coaster of the cartilage.
Around and around.
I flinch as the wetness enters ground zero.
I do not move.