Was I really heartless as it told me?

But I tried to sprout out tears,

The day that the angel flew to the sky.

I longed to feel the slimy snot crawl down my nostrils,

The taste of the salty water trickling down my wailing mouth,

But my eyes were as dry as dry ice.

And my heart burned as much as it would hurt

To press that dry ice against your chest.

I stared at the burning sunlight

Trying to melt it away into tears

To the point where I was almost blinded

To the point where I thought...

That I’d never see another color again

It cursed me for not being able to cry,

For laughing.

And playing.

For having such a juvenile mind.

My dry eyes were blasphemy and vice.

I should have blown my nose

Until it was dripping blood

And until the blood was no longer dripping.

But was it really a sin to cry over an angel?