Tears

I cry when I think of how much the men I love are loved by their mothers (if I loved you once I will love you forever).

I cry when I see a kindness being offered that I did not have the courage to offer.

I cry when my sister cries, when she is made to feel less than the glorious woman she truly is.

I cry when I think of the faith of my mother, raising two little girls in little houses all by herself. She is strong.

I cry when the character in my book gives up what he or she loves to fit into the world or normalize.

I cry when real people do the same.

I cry when I loose the line between true love and a lie. When I think I am asking too much, but still wanting it all, unsure of how demanding I can be when it comes to degrees of affection. I give all.

I cry when I realize I have underestimated myself, when I gave too little, when I come up short.

I cry when I remember being elated with a person I no longer speak to.

I cry when I attempt to fathom eternity, the vast loneliness of it.

I cry when I disappoint my father through neglect of gratitude or neglect of duty.

I cry when I simultaneously want opposites.

I cry when life appears pointless, when I want nothing more than to drown out of existence.

I cry when I can no longer play the songs I used to play.

I cry over misunderstandings.

I cry reading my own poetry. Usually poems about the men I love (if I loved you once I will write about you forever).

I cry when I remember how awful university was.

I cry when I hear this song.