When the tears come

      How do I tell myself that someone I love is dying?
      How do I open myself up to the sadness locked outside?
      My heart is dry; my thoughts cold, analytical, scientific.
      How do I tell you that someone we love is dying?
      How do I listen to you weep, exposing my own grief?
      My heart is melting; my thoughts warm, miserable, melancholy.
        The tears finally come, drowning my soul in a stormy darkness.
        My soul aches for the promise of a new morning.
        Until that dawn, I defer to my sorrowful, deathly bedfellow.
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