Even You

If one could stain the color of another's tears, 

I would turn yours to red.

A deep crimson, thicker than blood.

So dense, they would clog your eyes,

until it was hard to see.

And when you fell asleep,

the sound of sobs echoing through your room,

your tears would stain the sheets,

dark and permanent against the white satin.

A faint line of pink would stretch down your cheeks

a mark no water could erase.

Only then, would I know,

The stain of your tears 

would be the first thing I would look for.

And I would smile.

Joyous with the knowledge

that even someone like you,

so high above the rest.

Perfectly primmed and manicured,

with a straight smile and bright eyes.

Even you, like I, could cry.