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Open Poetry #49

Cloud Dancer

Redstart
Senior Member

since 2014-05-16

Posts 535

0 posted 2014-05-24 06:45 PM

Like a cloud dancer,
skipping the scattered cirrus,
he stepped lightly on her pain.
Though, with Achilles' eyes, she urged:
come, dance a stratus waltz.

No penned invitation to her heart;
she harboured no such weakness.
Held close: her bleeding kernel.
Safe within that mighty shell
that she sold, so convincingly,
to a sleeping world.

She stood mute as she yelled.
Knowing that such lightness of foot
would merely graze the hurt,
perpetuating the scarring scabs of memory.

And so, in ignorance,
through her screaming silence,
he danced on.
And there, within her lonely fog,
she wept
her dry-eyed tears once more.

JerryPat2
Member Laureate

since 2011-02-06

Posts 16975
South Louisiana

1 posted 2014-05-24 07:05 PM

"her dry-eyed tears" are the absolute worse kind of tears. They scream of her nothingness. They give her the unconscious desire give of herself what she cannot.

~*~ The poor wish to be rich, the rich wish to be happy, the single wish to be married, and the married wish to be dead. ~*~

Redstart
Senior Member

since 2014-05-16

Posts 535

2 posted 2014-05-24 07:40 PM

You're right , Jerry, but dry-eyed tears cry out for understanding. Understanding that they never achieve. The saddest eyes you'll ever see.

wordancer
Senior Member

since 2000-07-30

Posts 809
VA

3 posted 2014-05-24 08:32 PM

oh how they burn, those dry-eyed tears

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