Torn Tears

A Significant Sorrow

Her eyes are deserts that haven't seen a drop of rain in a thousand years.

What they did to her warrants death. Some things are forgivable, easily erased. Not this. This will never be erased like her mind.

I will never forgive this.

I will never forget her.

The way the sand in her eyes would dance as in a wind storm when I said something funny. The way every part of her caught fire when she was angry. The way she moved in her clumsy way when she was in a hurry. The way she'd glare at me for laughing at her.

Now, those golden eyes of hers are cast a shade darker, lost and unknowing. There is no fire or emotion whatsoever in her eyes.

It's a terrible sight.

I know right now my eyes are storming oceans, while hers are calm and dry. I can't see through the waves

They will pay. While she is emotionless, I have enough drive and recklessness to cause a tsunami.

* * * * *

My eyelids are painfully dry. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

A crying, shaking boy sits in a chair at the foot of my bed. I think I'm in a hospital. The boy keeps muttering about making "them" pay.

It's tragic--I think--the state this boy is in. This pained boy is some mother's son, some father's chip-off-the-old-block. His friends would be wounded by this sight. Maybe, he even has a girlfriend who is as heartbroken as him.

Maybe, he should be the one laying I the hospital bed. I sit up and make my suggestion.

He stands and screams, kicking the chair over. It's too much. I stumble out of bed. He shakes his head miserably as I nearly fall.

"Can I help you somehow?" I ask unsteadily from a foot away.

There's a certain wildness in his tortured eyes. He's a feral creature. Maybe, he shouldn't be trusted.

He's got his hands on my back and behind my head. His mouth is crushing mine desperately.

I break free. He has a girlfriend, no doubt. It isn't me.

For all of the green mixed in, his eyes could not possibly be more blue if you dumped the whole sky into them.

He's probing me for recognition, I know. I know he's desperate and hurting beyond hurt. What I do not know--or rather who--is him.

I tell him. I have to. It stings, but I have to tell him.

But I love you, he cries hopelessly.

I'm trying to tell him he's mistaken. I'll help him find who he's looking for, but he is definitely mistaken.

He's continuously confessing his undying love for me.

Somewhere, outside this room, I hear laughter.

This situation could not be more sad if I had ever met this boy before. I nearly shed a tear.