Yesterday’s Tears

I’LL DAMN WELL CRY, IF I WANT TO CRY

So, I Did … It Wasn’t My Idea … Dew Drops Falling.

Last Night Around 7 PM — 20 Minutes Worth Of Moistened Eyes, Tear-Stained Cheeks — I’m Not Good When Reading About Pain, Suffering And Grief.

“I Can’t Remember Exactly When I Cried Last.  Couldn’t Have Been Too Long Ago.  At Least A Week?”

… George Floyd …

 

I CRY LIKE A GROWN-ASS MAN

Reduced To A Boy Child …   

I Cry About Love — Tears Of Joy — Still Tears.  And Tears Always Count In Life, Loss And Love.  Except When Crocodiles Do It.  Alligators, Too.  Perhaps, We’ve Been Wrong About Famiglia Crocodylidae.

“Is There Any Emotion More Human Than Love?”

… Hate, On Bad Days.  Forgiveness, On Better Days.

 

THE BRIEFEST HISTORY OF MY TEARS

Yep, I’ve Cried Over Heartache …   

It’s Been Sometime — 1,472 Days According To My App — Since The Achy Breaky Stuff Made Me Well-The-Hell Up.  Beat The Tarnation’s Of Love Residue All Out Of Me …

“Cryogenically Froze The Portion Of My Unused Soul … Saved It For A Rainy Day … Like Today.”

But, That’s The Shitty Participation Ribbon One Gets For Playing The Ego-fied Shame Game.

 

FUN FACT MANFESSIONAL #1

I’m A Devoted Practitioner … 

Crying Is Not Pretty.  Not That I Look When I Ball — It’s Certainly Neither Fashionable Nor Sexy — How Does One Dress Or Accessorize For Tears?

Strong, Stoic, Icy-Veined Alpha Bravo Charly Types — NATO Phonetic Alphabet Abusers — This Is A Cue To Foxtrot, Tango, Whiskey … Yankee, Zulu Your Exit Now.

“Crying Is A Super Power.  Men Have Been Doing It Since At Least 1980.”

 

MY MANLONELINESS MESS

I Wilted, Spilt It, Like An Over-Watered Flower … 

I Haven’t A True Clue What-The-Frangipane Came Over Me.

After Dinner — Minding My Simple-Minded Thursday Night Business — Decompressing From Work Drone Mode While Catching Up On My Favorite Bloggers.

“May Have Been Spotify Putting Me In A Love-Me-Tender Heart Zone.  Achy Breaky, Snapper Head.  Evidently, Silly Love Songs Don’t Pair Well With Radicchio & Fennel Salad.  Meh-be, It Was The Zippy Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing With An Extra Zing Of French Dijon Mustard & Maple Syrup?”

 

FUN FACT MANFESSIONAL #2

So, I Read A Post — Re-Read It Like It Was The First Time — Looked At The Pic Profile … 

Back For More.  The Em Word.  The Good One.

“Mother …”

Upset Me To Tears.

 

FUN FACT MANFESSIONAL #3

I Cried — In-And-Out — Of Prayer …  

In The Comments Section.  Damn, That Isn’t The Place To Cry Now, Is It?

Sacred Ground.  Reserved For Smiley Face Emoji’s.  Hearts.

… Not Blubbering, Blinky-Eyed Dinksters/Doofenshmirtzes.

 

PRAYING IS BREATHING-IN-THE-DARK FOR ME

Though My Words Don’t Always Flow The Way I Rehearsed Them … 

Praying Isn’t Blogging — There’s No Editing Live Dialog With The Almighty Father — Do Overs, Arguable.

“I Choke Up When Adlibbing Alibis To God.”

So, Rolling With The Truth Of The Matter Takes Me Where I Need To Be.

 

WHY EXORCISMS WORK

There Was A Blessed Time Several Years Ago … 

“When I’d Sob Uncontrollably In St. David’s Catholic Parish During Sunday Mass.”

I Don’t Know Why.  I’ve Never Asked Because The Answer Should Be Obvious.  It Just Happened.

… Always As The Choir Sang, “Hosanna In The Highest.”

 

I FEEL GOD FEEL ME

Inside — Outside — On The Blind Side Of Life.

All Around The Mulberry Bush.  Whenever Red Rover Came Over.

On My Shoulder, When He’s Not On My Mind — His Shadow In Is Mine — Mirrors Every Time.  He Gets Me When I Don’t Get Him, Or Let Him In …

“When I Was A Young Boy.  Waiting For The Answer.  To The Question I Didn’t Understand.”

 

DON’T KNOW WHY

He Picked Me … 

Or, If He’s Picked Others — I Suppose He Has — It Can’t Just Be Me?

Has He Poked You?

… We’ll Figure It Out, Amici.

 

ALPHA BRAVO CHARLY

My Prayer Was Short — Not Much To It — As I Asked Father To Absolve A Woman Of Her Sins And To Watch Over Her Faithful Son In Time Of Grief …

“I Know It Wasn’t My Place.  In The Affairs Of A Stranger And God’s Highest Order Of Business.  Noseying About A Man I Know Not But Of His Words Far More Cryptic Than Mine On His Blog.”

What I Saw Was A Warrior Bred Of A Hardened Exoskeleton — A Good Son Devoted To His Dear Mother As She Lay In A Hospital Bed — And A Tender Soul Revealed.

… A Dying Mother And Her Loving Son.

 

ONCE UPON A SPLENDID LIFE

I Was In A Similar Relationship With A Much Older Woman — So Pure I’d Taken It For Granted — A Mother’s Love Can Do That To A Son Unaware Before It Fades To Eternal Darkness.

“My Late Mother’s Birthday Is Tomorrow.  And That Gets To Me.  As It Does At This Very Moment And Last Night For A Spell Of Reflection …” 

The Hard Part Has Been Over For 16 Years.  The Worst Part Hibernates.  In God’s Trust, I Have No Blame For Her Time Had Come Long Ago.

I Played Her Last Night All Wrong — Never Had The Chance To Say Good-Bye —  But, Fair In Life Is Over-Rated When You Have Faith.

 

ABOUT THE TEARS

I’ll Blame It On Lilacs …   

Mom Loved Lilacs.  

Lilacs In A Mason Jar Filled With Tap Water.

… Always, Lilacs.

 

Image by Cristian Prisecariu from Pixabay