Some People are So Emotional.

I've never understood people who cry easily.

It's not like tears live quietly behind your eyes

awaiting their escape 

down your long, curved cheeks.

It's not like they sit pooling, waiting for the right moment

to jump ship

drowning you in 3am pizza and lazy kisses from the neighbor.

They don't smother you softly,

slowly,

surprisingly,

like the morning wood of your ex-boyfriend

deep in your sleeping back.

Tears start low and deep,

in the chasm in your chest,

in the 

space in the bed where your lover turned away from you,

saying not. now. not. again. 

I've got no time.

I'm so tired.

They claw up your sternum,

gnawing at your clavicle,

knocking on your bones.

They sing the song of your mother

who can never be happy because she can never take blame

and, instead, throws it on you like acid

a childhood full of shame and silence, but not tears.

They rise in your throat like bile

reminding you that one time

you were so unlovable

that your dad just never came home.

Not because he was that bad

but because you weren't that good.

I've never understood people who cry easily.

When their world is the same

as it's always been

and they've never experienced the shift of the universe

when someone you love

tells you they can't possibly love someone like you.

Tears don't fall gently down unsuspecting cheeks.

They clench themselves into fists

in the blinding spot that stretches infinitely into forever.

They turn to pus and ooze out of your mouth like fire.

Infecting everyone around you

until you teach them all a lesson.

Until they all stay away.