A study said happy tears roll down first from right eye
The sad little one, from left eye first.
These are all lies. Aren’t they?
They flow. Unbound. Un-patterned.
They flow. Like love.
3 little streams at times.
Like three tributaries.
Reaching out for my slightly parched lips.
Hiding in their little openings.
Spreading horizontally. Unwarranted.
Reaching tongue. Salty. Like sea.
Tears. Aren’t they the seas we hold inside.
Till they break artificial dams. Our masks. And flood our shores.
Tides. Falls and rise. Like our sufacial emotions and deepest pains..
Like lovers..meeting and parting..
Coming and going..
A proof..of our hollowness and fullness..
A proof of life still breathing in our cold hearts..
Then dropping on elbows and arms..
On books we read..
On inked poems..splattering..like rain..
Spoiling the perfectness into our human imperfectness..
Much needed, to warm our rock cold selves..
The imperfections to make us feel and bleed and love again..despite all..
Tears..aren’t they much more?