Years of Tears

The years of tears

Have washed like a river

Eroding what was once dry land.

Alternate gushing and freezing

Has cracked seemingly solid rocks

Of family friends and jobs.

Soggy snotty tissues

Piled by the bedside.

Wanton weeping down the phone,

In front of the television,

In the car.

A cracked smile turning down at the edges.

“Are you OK?” “Yes fine.”

rushing to the toilet to cry.

Permanently premenstrual pathetic.

Sobbing in the shower so no one can hear.

Drivelling until dissolved.