A Thousand Tears

I’m sitting here,
at home,
in a big ol’ chair,
all alone,
and I haven’t talked to you
in fifteen years.

Maybe you’re on the line,
maybe you’re calling me this time,
to tell me exactly
how you feel.

Oh, the times we had,
passion,
wrapped with
anger and sadness,
were surely worth each of
those thousand tears.

On second thought,
please don’t call me at all,
because I’m not ready
to feel or hear
your steel.

That old pain,
long since faded away,
was a razor blade
that cut me for all
these years.

I’ll pretend
that each unknown is you,
a whispered message home,
and forget the
notes and reminders

until my heart is full.

©️ Obol, 2020.