don’t tell me how to cry. i know it, i know it. better than you think
[even better than i knew.]
i know it.
tears came, they came. tonight.
oh and of course i didn’t like it. i wiped at my face furiously with the sleeve of my black tee. my nose, my eyes, my face [and the wiping left stains like the trails of snails, so shiny and so pretty]. but my eyes blushed red, my cheeks flushed pink and my nose choked at the surprise of it all.
and it gave
my game
of hide and seek
don’t tell me how to cry
but please
tell me how to be okay when i cry. i want to be proud of my tears. i want to feel the completeness
the purity
of giving into sadness
of giving into helplessness. i want to feel okay with breaking down and open and apart. i want to find strength in the saltiness. i want to realise how clever the whole thing is – how my body will just do even with my arms wrapped tight around my ribcage. i’m not even fooling myself,
i hold nothing together.


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