Tears

Sometimes it feels good to cry.
Long, warm, salty tears that
Drip down slowly from each eye
One  by one.
Eyes closed, mascara smearing
Down my cheeks like a dark shadow.
When I sit in the dark, silently weeping,
I am not angry, I am not bitter.
I am just alone- me and my tears.
No one will ever know of these nights
I spend huddling over sorrows unknown
To even me,
Because somehow, it seems better 
To keep the tears a secret.
And somehow, the tears comfort me
More than any human ever could. 

D. Leizman

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