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What Crying Feels Like

In such a lone moment as this, a certain feeling can, it is said, crawl its way up your back and whisper in your ear that everyone is having so much more fun than you, while you are sitting here in this lonely place, once again. And the feeling can cause burning tears to build up in the glassy iris of your eye, so much that the eye cannot possibly contain what it has been burdened with and so then releases the salty, sneaky tears that you are fain to repress every day.

You've carried the insidious resolve that you won't won't won't cry anymore. And surprisingly, the hearty and devastatingly crushed feeling does not think it necessary to ascend to the surface in public, or even in the privacy which you seclude yourself to. Other plans and music and busywork smothers the very idea of crying at such times.

But there is a point in which a certain passage in a book can catch your eye, or one striking, maverick thought darts across the threshold of your wandering mind and the tears build so suddenly in your eyes that you cannot even think how it happened. But all you know is that your eyes have seemingly connected themselves with the realization that something deep down inside is smoldering, and you've held it in all this time, without knowledge of that which causes lead to deaden your steps, and make tentative and delicate your disposition. Something that which has ached for seeming centuries begins to churn and make itself known to your unassuming eyes.
Your whole life begins to pour out onto the floor, with all of its washed up dreams and broken heartstrings that would've loved to be played evermore by the one you cared for. And lain on the dusky wooden floor is a heart most trampled upon, with certain pieces bearing names and faces long gone. A scourged, bloody appearance has this mistreated heart, and you wonder how it could have ever beat so relentlessly inside of you while the near whole of it suggests absolute destruction. And yet a thudding drum pulses it onward, still. You cradle your broken heart, and those grateful tears stream down along ivory-colored cheeks for every shattered dream that lead you to disbelieve, and every slicing word that buried itself inside your core, festering and awaiting this very day.

And in this moment, all of it is gone.
The aching that had slumbered for so long, finally awakes and thrashes inside your burdened body, only to be washed away by an overflow of healing tears. Such tears as these form themselves as white, caressing bandages that bind your devastated heart. And all the voices that had invaded your struggling mind fade to embrace one still, small yet powerful voice that speaks life and healing into you. Every discouragement that imprinted its mark on you becomes undone, and makes way for love.

A love so powerful it fills every inch of you until you cannot bear the tremendous, overwhelming feeling. You leave your heartaches on the floor, where they belong, no longer threatening the power of your own strength. And tranquil becomes a reality again, in the peace of healing.



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Silver2blackThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Jan. 21, 2012 at 2:44 am:
"Your whole life begins to pour out onto the floor," Wow, a very strong way of describing the way some1 cries, that was graceful,and Amazing I never thought of those clever your you used in your poem, I think I'll come back to read this talented write again !
 
lexiloveartjunkie replied...
Jan. 21, 2012 at 12:21 pm :
Wow, thank you so much! I really appreciate it :)
 
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