They fall when the music turns soft and hatred throws itself against your walls.
They leak while you look the other way and turn salty when you realize it won’t stop.
They sting when there’s been too many and soften when there aren’t enough.
Sometimes they are your own soul’s escaping,
and thoughts pending.
You drown in the place between the drop and the landing,
Between the shapeless and the surface,
Between the darkness and the distance.
They hide there waiting at the bottom of a glass,
On the tip of a pen,
In another’s mouth,
And on raining dark roads.
Mothers say “let it out”
Fathers say “keep it in”
Poets say “give them wings”
And eyes plead for a pause.
They puddle in your silence,
They sting in your hands.
They betray you and shake you,
They lose you and gain you.
Always on display on you,
Always a reaction to your world,
Giving back wet apologies for something you never did.
You’re here to let them go,
And here is where they hold on.