A tear that is wiped away - is it less important than one that falls? My friend once told me, "the only time I am happy is when I'm asleep," and every time I readjust my rearview mirror and see myself, or stare at my reflection as I shave my face, or gaze at my image in any device that catches my doppelgänger off-guard, I think about the way he felt. Asleep. Sound off. Goodnight.
A tear that careens down our cheek and leaps off the cliffside of our chin - is it more satisfying than one that does not get the chance to do so? My sister once told me, "all I want is for you to be happy," and when I scroll through my family photo album, through all the birthdays and holidays and special visits, I start to wish the same thing for her and wonder if the future will have more of my saved past memories in it, a wishful thought that I hope is granted. Happy. Sound on. Good morning.
A tear that is batted with some type of cloth - is it less important than one that makes it to the corner of your mouth and you taste life for what it truly is - salty. My father once told me, "a rut is nothing more but a two sided grave," and I've tried to stay away from them as much as I possibly can, some successfully, some not, and I can only hope I have made him proud and carried on what was programmed in my DNA. Rut. Muted. High noon.
A tear that is thumbed away by the unwashed finger of a friend - is it more important than one that you fight back? My mother always told me, "you are special," and I'm left wondering if I could ever go back to being fourteen and naive and hiding out in my room, a steeled walled palace where nothing could ever hurt me because dad was rocking in his living room recliner and mom was at the stove in the kitchen, making the best chicken and pastry the galaxy has ever seen. Special. Listen. Good evening.
Teardrops, liquid emotion waving goodbye to a way we felt in the past as we say hello to a future way of seeing life and feeling life and experiencing life like it was meant to be experienced... .. with eyes wide open, ... happy, ... no ruts, ... coming home, being happy, or moving away and taking little pieces of our upbringing with us wherever we may go, even if we end up where we first started off - at home. Teardrops. Are they wasted if we remain to be the same person we were before we released them? The answer is simple. ...
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