The Secret of Aluminium Tears

Melting tears like aluminium
melt down from my sleeves
my heart lives there
when you are around
but why the tears?
I ask myself
With no answer,
A lyrical warning
Like howling wolves
On the first step
On the stairwell to ecstasy
My soul hears
but I tend to deny it every time
and resume my pursuit
of hypothetical love
Blindfolded.
This chased-over proximity
does not earn me
anything new
just the very same old things
and the medals
that I once had
tattooed
on the hearts of
Brokenhearted people
I left behind,
They, the tattoos
Come alive when my consciousness is asleep
They bellow for me to wake up
And ask to salivate or spit out
the bitterness
that resides permanently
On my tongue
When I try to cross over the avenue
Made of broken hearts
Broken neatly in multiple pieces
I see a pattern in their cracks
and I see my furrowed face in them
and yours at the end of it
smiling,
I continue my journey
towards you
through this avenue –
Set afire, howling and bleeding
Surrounded with effluvia and pale steam
Sometimes I wish
to disjoint my face
from the cracks of these burning broken hearts
and wash off the blood from my tainted spirit
so I can reach you neat and clean
but you know it is not that easy
to undo what I’d done
and
This is how I know the secret
of aluminium tears.

Written for Wordle#4

my eyes refuse to accept passive tears by Agnes Cecile
my eyes refuse to accept passive tears by Agnes Cecile
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