One tear fell.
Was it for me?
Or you?
I can never tell.

Although, it could have been for other things:
The despair that eats at me.
Maybe, that one rotten grape.
The bird with its broken wing.

Perhaps, the last hour of sunlight.
The silence that speaks to me.
That shattered relationship.
All of the ones who never awake from the night.

Possibly, the people writing poems of pain.
That fear that incessantly nips at me.
Or the yelling in the next room.
The brown hills and lack of rain.

Maybe, it was the impoverished streets.
The glances of shame thrown to me.
A picture frame collecting dust.
That smoldering fire without heat.

How about the unspoken words?
The lost feeling that always finds me.
Those sparks flying from a dying flame.
The people who move in herds.

It could be his intoxicated sighs.
This regret that simply stares through me.
The music heard, but never listened to.
Their sunken eyes.

What about those unopened shutters?
The loneliness that befriends me.
Frost bitten foods.
The toy left in the gutter.

Maybe, it was that penny on the asphalt.
The mirror that shuns me.
That unread book screaming from the shelf.
All of the traffic at a halt.

Could it have been the nights without dreams?
This longing that hangs onto me.
Those burnt bits at the bottom of the oven.
The things that break at the seams.

It could have been for anything,
everything, and
nothing.