How to Write a Song

Tears trickle slowly out of my eyes
Not endearing, not pretty.
I look like I haven’t slept in days
And my nose won’t stop running.
They slide down my face
Over my cheekbones,
Carving valleys into my skin.
They drip onto my lips,
And I taste the bittersweet saltiness
Of grief.
The tears land on the gym floor,
And as they fall
They make a sound.
Like a microscopic drumbeat
Tap, tap, tap,
Syncopated.
I can’t help but think that
Even now
From wherever he is
He’s still making music.
Even as my teardrops
Inscribe a melody into the ground
I struggle to remember
His face.
You don’t think about
What a person looks like
When you’ve always taken them for granted.
I try to picture
His eyes
And his laugh;
But it’s all blurry
And the tears begin to pick up their tempo.
What was the last thing
He said to me?
I can’t remember.
The tempo moves along faster and faster.
Not even all of the tears
Reach the floor.
Some are caught on the tip of my nose
Dangling off a precipice
And others decorate my lips.
Did I hug him the last time I saw him?
Did I say how much
He meant to me?
My rhythm is off, irregular,
No longer syncopated,
Just wild.
The band is going too fast,
The beat is out of control,
And I can’t remember
The sunshine of his smile.
Someone hands me a tissue
And the music stops.
End of movement one.
Movement two will begin
Late at night
When no one can hear
The rhythm of my tears.