Saturday, October 8

Babble mumble

I can't weep.At least not anymore. All the tears, the red burning tears that I was so used to shedding, scarcely serve to quench my now-frantic heart. 

For, what are tears if it is just brine. They tinkle down and you, oh you terribly divine you, just wipe them off with your charming smile, which leaves me feeling mushy inside.

Tears, to be taken seriously, should be thick, bloody and should dry your heart with each falling drop, leaving you, exhausted, lifeless. Unwipable. Only to be healed. 

If corpses could talk, mine would probably -through it's weighted tongue- force out through faded, choked sighs the loss of the briny-sweet tears and the charming/disarming smile.  

The eyes would,then, probably bleed the real tears again. For a corpse, even a corpse much-in-love, doesn't need a heart to be quenched. Only memories to breathe off of. 

Muchas gracias, you.