I have cried on the wooden floor
beside my dresser
my hands caressing the imperfect object with love
I have cried on the sofa,
head buried in pillows as my mouth
gasped for air
and silence
I have cried on my bed
and on pages scribbled in black ink
my tears distorting my words
turning them into strange shapes-
this one, a boot
and that other one, a star
I have cried at my work desk, right in front
of the computer
and on the massage table so many times
now I’ve lost count
I have cried while riding my bike-
I can’t help it
this mountain town used to be yours alone
but now it’s become mine.
Only mine.
I have cried on runs around the lake, while
chopping vegetables, and a handful of times
on first dates
I have cried in the public bus,
most often behind dark sunglasses but
in front of strangers who’ll never
know my name-
which to me seems strange.
we have shared so many of my tears
together.
I have cried as I stood held in long embraces
by those who I can sense feel bad
for not having the right words to say-
they still haven’t learned that
there are none.
I have cried as my face seemed to freeze
distorted with pain
and as my voice escaped from me in the shape
of a scream
the only sound I can make when nothing
makes any sense
and not always, but sometimes
I try to muffle it so the neighbors don’t think I’m insane
I think that’s ok-
the screams are not like the tears.
I have cried over both
death and life
and all the words I can no longer write
without hearing his name
I have cried in planes and
in cities far, far away-
enough to know that my tears will always
tag right along with me
the saddest carry-on.
I have cried in the arms of my mother
a few times but last time
was on top of a carpet covered with crumbs
which gave me a kind of sad comfort-
to know I wasn’t the only thing broken
lying there.
I have cried until lashes fell out
enough of them for the entire world to make wishes with-
because the lashes
(it seems funny to say it now)
wanted nothing to do with my tears
and I can still remember the first time I cried
in front of him
my hands on my face and then, his
I hid in shame because back then
I didn’t yet understand
that tears
are just feelings I haven’t learned how
to write down
yet.
But I do know how to cry now.
and someday I’ll learn to write the tears away
but even then I’ll know
it will only be because
I
have
cried.
