I can taste the salt on my lips.
If tears could make a river
could I drink from it, shrivel up and die?
Life’s already sucked me dry.
I can feel it run down my cheeks.
If tears were drops of early spring rain
could I use them to clear my cloudy brain?
Every season is the same.
Tears drip onto my toes.
Every answer is no.
If tears could fill an ocean
Please, would you let me drown in it?
[So I wrote this one about a year ago. I had my diary open one evening when I was just feeling completely miserable and hopeless and the poem just sort of spilled out of me, if that makes sense. It was interesting to edit it now when I’m in a completely different mind space.]