compare me to you
and you’re so much better.

People love you more
and there’s always
someone there to catch
your tears.

but for me
I have to wipe
my own.
they’re gathering
in a puddle.
all my salty
problems.
they can wash away,
but the pain’s
still there.

I’ve become accustomed to the feeling
in my heart of having no one
and these tears have lined my face for so long
that they’re a second skin.
the feeling is so familiar
that I’ve forgotten what it feels like
to have unstained cheeks.

to understand me you have to understand what i write. why i write. and to understand my writing you have to understand me. why i’m me. my tears and pain are not a seperate thing. they come with me. you have to care enough to try to get to know me. to try to understand, but never know. though sometimes someone comes so close to understanding, i love them even more every time they’re there for me. and concomfort me. to share my sorrows. my tears, my vissitudes. and me.