I look at the fan and try to pretend,
I hold my breath and wait for it to end.
But all of it comes tumbling down,
As if it has been quietly waiting all along.
All those tears that I saved,
For every wound that I ever had.
Today their appointment was due,
and oh! weren’t they ready.
I could always blame it,
Or the way it is,
I know it was my fault.
But I am not yielding.
I am done doing that.
I am tired.
Tired of pinning everything on myself.
Tying all my actions to a boomerang,
and wait for it to come back,
and hit me hard.
As it screams “I am back!”
The prodigal son returns.
But I am tired now.
These tears that I am shedding,
are the last of its kind.
The recesses of my mind would try to remember this moment.
And it will all come back.
Those scars would fade.
The heartbreak would mend itself.
But the memories of these tears would remain.
But I will miss it.
I will miss…
No. You’ll be debris.
I’ll miss this moment,
where it all happened.
while I slept,
Aren’t those the best kind of sleep?
The one where you cry yourself to sleep.