Make space in your soul for what lies ahead, they say.

Forget your memories, forget your pain, forget that heart frozen in the blinding rain, they say.

The only way I know how is to let the salt flow, let the heart see, let the eyes know.


My tears follow Newton’s third law: they snake down my scorched cheeks but let my soul soar.


My tears let me know I’m not as numb as I thought I was, that chloroform and walls haven’t made a zombie of me yet.


I feel; I’m sure of it now.

I breathe; I didn’t think I did for a while but the gasping makes me sure of it somehow.

Lying there behind my eyes an inch away from blinding laughter.

Lurking there an inch away from the cracks, the crashes, the disaster.

Falling in the wake of pride,

Falling in the shape of non deserving strides.


They are mine, the tears, the pain, the memories, the salt.

The ability to start the waterfall, the ability to anchor a halt.


You have no right over it, no claim; you cannot demand them.

The sweetness of liberation is mine and only mine.


© That Girl in the Fray, 2017. All rights reserved.



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