I do not cry
No emotional release
Can I find
In floods of tears
And verbal lamentations
Pain collects
In the cracks and crevices
Of my soul
It stagnates
Becoming old and stale
Still, I visit it
Poking at its dreary depths
With stick-like thoughts
Dragging it into the light
Of my current mindset
To consider and examine
Suppressed emotion
Repressed heartache
Contorted by exile
Grows and thrives
Beneath the scummy surface
Memories, once clear
Mirror-like images
Distort and fade
As mildew flourishes
And yet, pain draws me
Like a moth to a flame
I visit often, but never
Can I cry
Copyright © 2024 Robbie Cheadle
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