Tears fall, unsolicited.
Under this Greek sun, I cast my gaze over green hills and metropolis, quietly giving in to the storm that manifests them. I look out and wonder why.
I am a creature interested in rhymes and reasons. This is a world that has neither. My cheeks burn, the tears settle on my lips. I purse them: lips saturated with saltwater.
I kiss her, the ocean.
My first mother bleeds from blue eyes. From within she appears in the moments that confuse and hurt and stunt me. Bleeding from blue eyes, caressing skin red with another version of her that flows, nourishes, to the beat of a center drum.
My first father warms me in an embrace. Darkening my skin. Lightening my hair.
This life is a push and a pull. It is hard. It often makes no sense. I am a product of sun and sea. Perhaps this is all there is to it.
The tears fall. The tears cease, carrying with them some ambiguous burden out and away. Like a river carrying unwanted debris, I am freed.
Washed, dried, I take a breath.
Skarface 