Tears stream down

caressing one’s cheek,

waking every pore,

creating awareness—

for songs of sorrow

penetrate the movement,

breaking the barrier

with nothing more than

a whisper—

a whimper from the friction.

Glazed eyes fill only to spill over.

Closed eyes postpone another


Eyelids are left speckled with dew.

Quivering lips

create a quake; the vibrations

force the fleshy shells open,

displaying a crimson

web of hurt,

realizing it was sunny all along.


Christopher S. Malone View All →

I play with words and invisible objects.

A mind, a pen and a piece paper have the best relationship ever.


"Remember this--if you shut your mouth, you have your choice."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

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