Staring across the room

at a stranger’s face

in a faded picture on the wall.

Counting the minutes,

the seconds,

the hours,

Until the next teardrop falls.

Staring into the stranger’s eyes,

I can almost see their soul

Peering across time and space,

and through that paper gaol.

Holding on to a lifeline,

from a person long dead and gone;

Holding on to the prayer

that I’m not in this alone.

And a teardrop trickles down my face,

only to be wiped away

Because I know my feelings

only get in the way.

It doesn’t matter how I feel,

and it doesn’t matter why.

The only thing that matters

is to mask the tears I cry.



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