Crying is tape holding glass

to the point where it must

break again. To heal they say

I must try and paint my face,

comb my hair and pull on

my string of pearls. A veil

over those tears was a kiss.

When crying was all I had,

tears fell from never feeling.

They all wanted to fix me.

Him too.He looked at it from

a different way. I remember

Waking up with bruises

I didn’t know I had. Still

He was the answer. To what

was wrong if I would just try

to forgive everything that hurt,

to leave him behind

Like the rest of them.

But he would hold me

close, to his hands that left

Marks on my back capable

of more than just him.

He would always come home

With tears on his face.

When they should have been on

Mine. Yet, it was me who cried

on the wedding day. I won’t

cry tomorrow. I might be his

answer. To what was right

if I would just go.