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,
On You,
Or Timing,
Or Life,
Or the way it is,
Or me.

Not me.
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.

Years later,
The recesses of my mind would try to remember this moment.
And it will all come back.
I promise.

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.