crystal clear down the sides of your face
they reinvigorate weary souls
they are the catalyst in the process of change.
you cry a thunder storm.
sounding off triumphantly
looking so perfect and natural
your tears, they smell of rain
so pure and clean, healing wounds;
absolving the forsaken.
they are lightning bolts,
tracing the contours of your face.
they strike so hot,
cauterizing my insides
searing the brand of your name
into my heart.
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