They're Only Green

Those beautiful tears that fill,
Like a blue grey pool of pain,
To the rims and then turn green,
Before another leaps again.

Sliding down across her rosy cheek,
Mocking a smile meant to hide,
They're only ever so green,
When her weakness makes her cry.

Did you see how her lips, torn,
That never felt a voice so sweet,
Had quivered as she whispered,
With a gaze that wouldn't meet.

Her broken eyes that strained,
Blood shot from all the hurt,
Dwelling in a soul of torment,
Agony that starts to stir.

Her lifeless tongue entangled,
Round words to mask reality,
Poorly spoken lies masquerade,
Through clouded eyes, so green.

A hollow voice that shivers,
Under the fatality of deceit,
Here's a little secret,
Too clearly written to be seen;

They're only green,
When she cries.

Author notes

This is written during a time of sorrow. I've come face to face with the first death (more nearing, but too near not to be pained) that is going to scar me. I was too young any other time I heard the news of a family member dying. And this time, it's closer to home. Not a relative by blood, but a father by nature. He may be crusty on the outside, but he has a tender surprise center. He adopted me, to fill that empty void that's been too real after his actual adopted daughter turned his back. And I, adopted him to fill that festering sore of a father who never was, or at least, never cared to be. I don't know how to let go, or if I could ever truly heal when the day comes that he does leave us, where it is no longer a "he's close" but "he made it" only "just barely"...