~Lacrimat~

“I want to see the thirst inside the syllables
I want to touch the fire in the sound:
I want to feel the darkness of the cry.
I want words as rough
... as virgin rocks.” - Verb.”
― Pablo Neruda

It’s a moment when pain and anger settles…
it’s dead weight presses against solar plexus..
trigger’s those spasms from a touch...and memories
of fingers soft as a whisper brings a craving
or this longing to have love near again…

That's when we appear..
When his pleading words become
uncontrollable sobbing….
       ~freeing~
… in our release.

cascading down cheeks..erasing and remembering
memories where moments played out
her taste on his lips,and the feel of her in
his arm..saw us mingling with lips…
his red rimmed eyes acting as our closing act…

you see no longer does his body curls into a ball
but let agony rip through bones,
pulling each wanted leftover residue of her
from his core . ..

and WE ..
his water ….
cleanse..
not all of her from his system
but just enough until thoughts
of her become the mountain
love  buried  him under..

………….and we

tear from him the soul
of love ever elusive body
until we and rain mix
bleeding into his pores
our healing elixir..
giving him his answer….

“who understand the lonely man
who can’t tell his tears from the rain” ?…

We do…
spilling from his ducts  we blend
with the rain leaving  him hiding  behind
the pain of  missing and loving her still..