Weeping woman

My heart is an anchor.
It weighs heavily beneath a sea of tears.
I cling to it desperately as the tide tries
to rip my trembling hands from the weathered
line that holds me in place.
 
When I feel it washing over me I confine myself
to dark places so no one can see
my desolation, or pity my sadness.
I've learned that sadness holds no pity  
for a weeping woman, only sorrow.
 
I cry alone and love cannot save my
tender skin from the brackish sting of dolor.
Perhaps one day the line will grow weak
and I will drift away, small and forgotten
as the current carries me to you.