What is it about these tears?
Flowing so audaciously through the years.
Vulgarly precipitous,
Abundant
To the point
Of losing their meaning.
Yet never free of
The weighty pain,
Perpetually there,
That propels them
Into their ostentatious
Existence.
The familiar sting
In these tired,
Seldom dry,
Eyes
Like the twinge of a lost limb:
A perpetual reminder
Of an absence
That refuses to drown
In this stream of
Liquid suffering.
How many drops?
Multiplied by years
Can a woman’s eyes
Shed
Before
Forever
Losing their sheen
