I take back my tears,
In ages of childhood,
For broken toys-
Dolls of limp cotton,
And their yarn hair,
Its yellow faded soft,
By summer's sun.
I take back my tears,
For grazes and scrapes;
Red threads,
Of lines and curves,
Lightly ingrained,
Upon unmarked skin.
('Twas merely malice's brush,
Foreshadowing its wrath).
I take back my tears,
For sordid motives,
Hands of steel,
That yet felt warm.
(Trust was futile,
When Rome burned).
I take back my tears,
For voices I faintly heard,
A gentle cradlesong,
That assured me of eternity,
('Twas only the wind).
I take back my tears,
Of teenage infatuation,
Deemed to be anything,
But what it is.
(We are naught,
But of flesh and bones).
I take back my tears,
For shining balloon hearts,
Glistening and fragile
As they billow in the wind,
Held only to this earth,
By flimsy ribbons.
These hearts of helium are set aloft,
By a storm evoked
From clear skies
('Twas what all saw but I).