Hell Crying

 
 The stars are absent tonight,
the moon hiding her face in a dull cloud of sorry.
Falling from the sky are misty tears, moistening my dry face.


Though the heavens may sense my yearning, I will not weep.
I’m not pregnant with melancholy, nor will I birth for you a sob.

I will not moan in my pillow, missing your touch,
nor will I shout out your name in anguish when your phantoms
hunt me at night. My thoughts will never betray me of the memories of you, or my loneness.

Your leaving has not broken this heart of mine. Passion rules here, not bitterness and tears. Not this heart so full of zeal to give of itself Love,
and to receive in turn, whole heartily.

So, before you see me shed one single tear for the lost of you; the heavens will cry themselves a river of misty tears.  
And Hell will cry one too.