I turn away, to avoid confrontation.
My eyes fill with tears - tears of sadness, frustration or bewilderment
I cannot tell - does it even matter?
It has all rolled into the one - drop by drop.
As the tears roll down my cheeks, the warmth is strangely comforting.
Surely it means something - that I feel, I yearn and have wants and needs.
The day it all stops will be a different story.
Maybe it will never come to that.
I hope not.
I am not ready to relent to my weak willed voice. Not yet.
I haven't given it my all - this is not a battle I will easily give up.
Unlike the others. There is a purpose to this, a glimmer of hope at the very end.
The day I no longer shed a tear - that will be my sign.
Like flower blossoms in Spring, and snow falls in Winter.
There are days where it seems to be filled with gloom.
Not a single hope insight, only all the rope to hang yourself with.
Yet, there are other days where birds chirp joyful songs and the sun shines like I've never seen it shine before, the world filled with never-ending laughter, hope and love.
The day she stops speaking - that will be my sign.
Like flower blooms in Spring, and snow falls in Winter.