crystalline
quivering
teardrops
fall as regularly
as snowflakes
during harshest winter
as diverse
as they are infinite

ugly, wrenching cries
forced to clutch my stomach
in order to keep my guts
from spilling out of my body

single, silent teardrops
that roll down my cheek
caressing the curve of my neck
leaving a thin
pale trail across skin
before sinking gracefully
into the neckline
of my shirt

long slow cries
bottomless well
of salt
and sorrow
losses blurred together
into aching wholes

tears that fall
of their own volition
out of sync
with my mood

I did not know
that this
was to be the age
of endless water
my blue phase

© 2016 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
Revised © 2018 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved