I am cursed to cry,
crystal, clandestine tears,
because my eyes miss my mistress,
and nothing can fix the fever that breaks and regroups,
like a relentless army, when she is not by my side.
My lot in life was light until she let herself in the open front door,
that waited with hopeful eyes,
for some kind of company,
closing whenever someone knocked,
until she just strode in,
with a whirlwind of smiles and affirmations,
that cleared the way for the door to close out of satisfaction, rather than fear.
It didn't end there.
It never could,
never would,
because life continues to live on after happy endings,
and as the curtain falls,
we continue.
She would always come back,
but she had no choice but to leave,
in and out, like the changing weather and my changing moods,
and whenever she was near,
I was blessed,
but the second she was out of my sight,
the curse returned,
and I was a storm,
destined never to subside,
until she was by my side, once more.
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