i've never been a pretty crier

my red eyes
scratch their sockets,
a silent,
rasping plea for pax,

but it's not about to happen.

i can pretend
that these waters
are just eddies on the surface,

but i never was
much of an actress,

and no one's buying
the story
i was always told
to sell.

i threw away the key
to the door
in front of me
years ago, and forgot
that i didn't lock it,

and standing there
for the first time in years –

i hope you can forgive
what must look
like complete subjugation,

a retreat from pain
that's already inside,

and i know it's never pretty
when a soul comes so close
to breaking,

but if that tarnished cover
has to shatter
for the sake of
the porcelain underneath
to glow through,

if it takes
a bursting dam
in order to reveal
a genuine smile,

then i guess it's a fair price,

now you just need to show me
how to pay it.