A crystal shard drips
From its ancient resting place,
And falls to the ground.
But in that moment
Between air and impact,
I can see the art,
The art of a tear.
Its multi-faceted surface
Reflects on the soul
And all its light
Cuts us deep.
In all its beauty,
It still makes us cry.
It is like a dagger
Being pushed through our soul,
Eventually it surfaces
Only to cut a path down our face.
It is how the soul bleeds
When it is pierced too deep.
It is proof of mortality,
And yet we deny it.
But, at the same time,
We cherish every last one.
Because all this pain
Reminds us to be strong.
It reminds us
That we still feel.
We wait for the day,
When they all we be washed away,
Yes,
We do bleed.
But it helps.
So hold every last drop
And wait.
But for now
I’ll admire the art.
For you are the artist
And I am simply a canvas.
Paint me dry,
But I need the moisture.
So cut me anyway,
You know you want it.
A knife and a paintbrush,
What’s the difference?
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Submission Name: The Art Of A Tear
