I cry rivers
made of salt,
sweat soaking my body
whole, salt
oozing from cracked bones
dragged through
war-zones and trenches
that never leave me be

I cry rivers
made of glass
shards cutting across my skin
smooth but sharp, unapologetic stabs
carving a map of you and me
upon my body.
I blink and feel searing splinters,
blinded
for a moment and a moment alone

I cry rivers
made of blood
boiling, bubbling from the words
they sunk into my skin, fresh
gushing out from my pores
engulfing me, drowning me

I cry rivers
made of fire
brilliant flames licking at
the hems of my being
smoke swallowed at once
fills me up
embraces me like an old friend
burn me crisp, melt me slow

I cry rivers
made of chains
darkened from sorrow
wrapped around their prisoner
who trudges through cold suffering
crumbling, limb by limb

I cry rivers
made of petals
from soft lillies and
silent jasmines,
milky youth and
dwindling innocence
drifting along, drifting away

I cry rivers
until no tears remain
just dry barren land;
that is all I have left