As I am a woman who is led by my emotions,
I can only assume that you are one of the same kind.
But where I reveal my sorrow in words,
you keep yours close to your heart, close to yourself,
closed, locked, kept safe within you.
Little pieces of pain that are better freed,
merely to get rid of but you keep in
as if you took pleasure in the torture that they cause.
Maybe you have been mislead to believe
that you are meant to suffer in silence.
The closest that I can get to your misery
is by the touch of your tears
after they gather in the corner of your eyes
to then slowly roll down your cheeks for me to wipe off.
I know my tears taste salty and
I have the feeling that yours must be bitter.
Bitter drops of relieved agony,
better not caged within your body
for they would ignite your insides.
Therefore do not envy the ones who cannot cry
as they are burning quietly.
I would not care if your tears burned my fingers as I wipe them off,
for I rather have my fingers hurt than your face scarred by them.
I need you to know that time does not heal all wounds,
do not be fooled,
for I know that this is nothing but a myth,
Do not waste your precious time waiting for salvation.
I wished I could teach you how to use your voice
to adjust the pressure within you,
so that you could take this massive load of your soul
and be free like you crave to.