More time wasted
The saltwater drips onto the pillow as they caress my face slowly being ejected by my tear ducts. The cold water spots form two eye shape circles on the pillow that stare off into an emotionless black hole. No iris, no pupil, no cornea- these ocean eyes made of tears only see into the dead-end future of
You know you're hurting inside when it suddenly occurs to you a good idea to stab forks into your own forehead.
Heartache- The glass shards from a broken heart tear at the the membranes as they are pumped through veins trying to oxygenate these shaking hands and breathless lungs. The heart continues to try but only causes more shredding.
As the tears begin to flow more steadily like a moderate drizzle in a summer storm here in New Orleans, I try to fill them with my memories that they perhaps may be washed away. The failed dreams and let downs stain my face and cause it to be sticky like a child who spilt his cranberry juice on the hardwood floors. These disappointments never leave
I'll be woken up tomorrow by the sun and be ever moving one again into the future. But my tear stained pillow and scarred insides of my veins never forget that broken heart which never had all of it's pieces swept up into the dust pan.
