To most, it’s nothing -just water and
salt. But sometimes, a single drop
holds the weight of years.
It begins as a shimmer in the
corner of the eye, quiet and
unannounced. It doesn’t ask for
permission. It simply falls-
graceful, deliberate-like the soul
exhaling what the mouth could
never say.
As it slips past the eye, it carries
the ache of memory. It traces the
red ridge of the nose, brushes the
cheek, sometimes warm with
longing, sometimes cold with
silence. Other times, it looses its
way to dry meadows where sorrow
has long since settled,tastes sweet,
then salt-like love and grief folded
Into one.
You forget to wipe it away.
Not out of carelessness,
but because for a moment, the
world pauses around it.
You remember the way you once
swallowed your tears as a child.
trading them for imaginary
strength. Back then, sadness felt
simpler. Now it returns layered-a
touch once too harsh shame
beneath silence, guilt without
confession, love that never had a
place to stay.
And still it falls.
Uninvited, unexplainable.
Not loud, not broken. Just there
Like a quiet ache dressed in silk.
Not out of despair, but something
softer. A quiet pull from beneath
the surface. It slips free without
warning, summoned by something you cannot name-an echo, a
scent, the nearness of someone
who almost feels like home. It
glides across the skin like a secret
too intimate for language, and
disappears before it can be
caught.
And in that vanishing, it leaves
behind nothing-
except there’s something almost
tenderly rebellious,the quiet
certainty that something was felt.
and that it mattered.
