Tears Like Snowflakes Fall (revisited)

I have had ample opportunity

Of late

To contemplate the nature

And personalities

Of tears

Crystalline, quivering


Are starting to feel

Like snowflakes

During a harsh winter

I am coming

To the conclusion

That tears can be as diverse

As they are infinite


I am, by nature

Someone who hates to cry

I have been that way

Since I was a small child

I particularly hate

Witnesses to my tears

Whether it is an

Ugly, wrenching cry

Clutching my stomach

As though trying to keep my guts

From spilling out of my body

Or whether it is

A single, silent teardrop

Rolling down my cheek

Caressing the curve of my neck

Wet, warm, salty

Leaving a thin pale trail

Before sinking gracefully

Into the neckline

Of my shirt



Is a feeling

Which I have never

Made peace with

I am like a trapped,

Wounded  animal

When my feelings are raw

Capable of biting the hand

That reaches out for me

Of fleeing into the woods

Or of hiding under the front porch

To nurse my injuries

In stubborn, proud



Wishing desperately to connect

Fearing equally

The terrifying risks of such

An exposure

Of giving another

No matter how trusted

How trust worthy

That much power over me


To connect is

To want

To feel


With my heart

Wrenched open

Pulsing brightly in the

Cool evening air

Is to risk rejection

Is to risk  loss


There has been

So much loss already

A list of names written in invisible ink

My personal  memorial

To those no longer with me

I do not need to tattoo their names

Onto my skin

They already seared

Onto my soul

I carry the weight of their loss



Tears continue to fall

In their myriad of


Even when their presence

Does not match

My current mood

I did not realize

That this was to be the age

Of endless water

My blue phase


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