The glint of light
flashed through her shaded eye
flecks of dust too
floated there.

Words echoed in the air
and I could hear
a welling tear
howl like the wind
in eyes which grew
narrow
from the question
which hung suspended in
the thick gap
between question posited
and response given.

I was
a dust drop
reeling,
tumbling,
flaming
speck
fleeing
exposed to those eyes
now glistening
welling up from that deep well
from where the soul cries.

It was cornered there
opposite the iris part
exposed
sliding across
to the oval end
where the eye narrows
like a river-let,
to fall
down
across the cheek bone
and splatter on the floor
in poor, dark light,
in the room carpeted
with unspoken words
and nuances.

A tear is born
to die in uncertain
circumstance;
born in mid-sentence,
unfinished meanings
and I
could not then
know my own answer
to her question:
Do you think we should break up?
I started saying "I do..."
not finishing
arrested by the narrowing
eye and it's river-let,
my soul on quivering hiatus,
no time to think or react
so swiftly the tear appeared
I had notime to think.

I could feel
my heart reach,
my soul extending,
moving across the tiny space;
a tear
at stake
sentences to complete.
"Not want to"
"Not want to"
my voice said
swooping up with finger-tip
nascent crying tear
which now retracts
transformed
in origin.
"My soul can not stand"
I said "to see the eyes
I love
grow
tear
river-lets."

There is nothing
more intimate
than tears shed,
retrieved
and shared
touched by finger-tips
kisses
unrelinguished.

There is no shorter time
than time trapped
between
I love
and I love you not;
no heartbreak flowing
deeper
than in tear-soaked river-lets;
no kiss sweeter
than those
which remain
unrelinquished.

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