Tears.

Your body's tightly wound together, your arms a barrier, your feet the escape. Your shoulders shake violently, only a fool would kick you now.

A silver rivulet of salty water.

Not forced nor wanted, but there.

Like many things, it dribbles down your cheek and sticks your hair to your face, curling around your soft pouty lips.

You make no effort to move it.

You've shown your weakness, yet it is your strength to be bared so vulnerable.

Especially to me.

Not another sees you, not another rivulet joins the first.

I take you in my arms as you cling to me, you don't protest but I know you hate it, you hate feeling vulnerable, you hate feeling sad, lonely.

Because sometimes, the only tear that marks your pretty face is the loneliest thing my heart can see.