Sometimes I cry because of the possibilities. The wasted ones. The ones that could have been. Soft, quiet tears that gently roll down my cheek to a new destination where they’ll soak in, disappear, never happened. Yes, occasionally I cry for what could have been. For the what if’s. For the cancelled plans and the let downs.
It’s a cleansing cry. The salty drops of warm water help to cleanse my soul and they water the seeds that will blossom into new flowers of hope.