Sometimes, the words fall out of my eyes, rather than flowing through my fingers. Sometimes, my world seems to circle into some sort of cosmic alignment, where the song playing on the radio has just the right melody for its words, or where the beauty of what I see fills me to the brim, or where the colors of the moment are more brilliant than dreams, or where I feel something so perfect that perfect words don’t exist beyond myself to describe it. And so instead, those intangible perfect words ebb and flow inside, peacefully, joyfully floating on rivers that find their way past my eyelashes, forging new streams down my cheeks only to empty into a lake upon my chest. A perfect little lake that I wish I could swim in.
I am swimming …
Tell me: What makes you cry?
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