I used to cry silent tears, blank expression
Like the vision of the demure girls in all the movies
Back when I would cry for sadness
I prided myself on looking pretty when I cried
That my expression didn’t change
That I looked soft and only ever so slightly hurt
I don’t cry frequently any more, a few times a year if that
I don’t cry from small hurts, I’d be crying all the time
I don’t cry from insult, injury, loss
But a few times a year
I break
Can’t think straight, can’t breathe, can’t organise my thoughts
I’m losing my mind and I cry for fear, that this is the big one, the one I can’t come back from
Now I cry ugly, with my entire body, pleading for it to be over because it hurts so damn bad
I cry ugly, shake, I scratch skin
I knock my head to knock the sense back in and I plead with myself to get it together
I only cry a few times a year
I cry hard
I cry ugly
And then I pick up the pieces.