Those tears drying on my hurting face.
The pained reminder.
The awkward smile.
The reality insufficient in mind.
A time of being, thinking and meaning.
Making up the mind through the tear-soaked face.
The smile beneath the crying face.
Knowing you are there but really aren’t.
Why am I not surprised.
It never changes.
This never changes.
The tears dry on my face,
Time and time again,
An indelible mark.
The collection of sorrows that mark my mind.
The collection of times, always on my mind.
A character, alone,
Walking empty through life.
As those tears dry on my face.