The Color of Your Tears

I sit here with you crying

and I feel your anguish

I hear the quiver in your voice,

your yearning for a solution is so real

it is almost palpable

But by the color of your tears

am I most affected by your anguish.

Your tears are not like the color of the midnight hour,

for that is heaving, heavy breaths,

a hope lost, a person passed.

The color of the midnight hour tears

are meant to be cried into your thick bedroom pillow

or your mother’s shoulder.

Nor are your tears the color of lilac purple,

for that is calm, silent breaths,

a beauty found, a heart warmed.

The color of lilac purple tears

are meant to be cried during sunsets

or reading a handwritten love letter.

Neither are your tears the color of Christmas bulb crimson,

for that is loud, puffing breaths,

a fight fought, a world shattered.

The color of Christmas bulb crimson tears

are meant to be cried when everyone is gone

or leads to hitting brick walls.

Your tears are nothing like the color of old car rust,

for that is shallow, tight breaths,

a pain afflicting, a heart sickening.

The color of old car rust tears

are meant to be cried in hospital beds

or on bathroom floors.

No, your tears are not like the color of horseradish mustard,

for that is quick, hollow breaths

a fear caught, a new understanding.

The color of horseradish mustard tears

are meant to be cried alone at night

or an unsuccessful try at hiding sorrow.

The color of your tears,

my dear friend,

are the hue of algae in the morning light.

Trapping, surrounding, helplessness envelopes your very soul,

gasping for breath, the slime holding you down.

Helpless, finding no way out,

your tears beg to show some outward sign

of what your heart churns about inside.

I sit here with you crying

and I feel your anguish

I hear the quiver in your voice,

your yearning for a solution is so real

it is almost palpable.

But in all reality,

your tears are not the midnight hour

Nor lilac purple

Neither Christmas bulb crimson

No horseradish mustard

Not even algae in the morning light

In all reality,

your tears are clear,

clear as sunshine in May.

christmas-bulb3

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3 responses »

  1. so thought provoking… I have never thought about tears and the “colors” behind them, but you shed a wonderful insight on the act of crying… mine and others.

    Like

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