Cold Water

Cold Water

Her eyes kept expanding in their sockets.

The muscles at her jaw swelled like the hunch of a well-fed cow as she clenched her molars and premolars. 

She tried so hard to stop the warm brine but her lachrymal glands, apparently, did not get the memo.

 In a spilt of a second, her cheek and mascara, all of it, would be washed clean, like the salty waves over the beach sand

Like two young paramours holding hands, her tears would connive with the mucous from her nostrils at the philtrum, traversing her lips before finally jumping off the jaw cliff. 

It would not be a good sight at all.

On other days, the milky alliance between tears and mucous would make me puke. 

Her own, although equally sordid, only inspired pity. 

I had never seen someone with so much tears. 

Tears, with a will like the erosion on the sub-Saharan soil, mapped and dug out every dirt on the physiological contours of her face. 

Astonishingly, her vocal cord had abandoned her.

What treachery at a time when it could paint her pain to the world.

The Lachrymal was her only ally. 

The brine it made was cats and dogs, as the rain would do.

Pale and scrawny, her buttocks had befriended the hospital chairs for months.

Her gap tooth told a tale of her olden beauty.

I guess beauty flees at the departure of good health.

She carries a burden of sighs and tears now.

I approached her for a chat.

But her misty, shiny retinas spoke only of doom and misery.

My smiles could squeeze out cold water from the sun, so I blessed her with some.

Her lips breathed and her tongue caught the sway.

How badly I had longed and waited for the arrival of her vocal chord.

This pain had eaten her up for so long while she courted salvation.

“So all my dreams are gone now. Nobody told me that I would die this early.”

“Oh my…What do you mean?”

Dilated balls in socket, and mouth left ajar, my eyes summoned a teacup of tears who marched down my chin and chest in a double-file.

The erstwhile goddess has been under attack, cannibalized by her own red blood cells.

Now she reeks of unwellness, rogue cells, and quietus.

“You have to be strong please”

My voice chord shivered like a drenched lonely chick.

“Everyone must be aware, we must stop this Cancer”

Rebellion runs in cells; we have to find them and stop them.

Else, they would raise a militia against us, their government.