Stop with the tears, my dear; Cease the heaving, grovelling sighs And endless snivelling, I hear. Let go of the ancient memories And dry those eyes in tears. You knew that this wasn't easy; You deemed the ghastly deluge Of all that's abysmal and queasy; Yet, you chose to relent; You opted to go through it, still. So, permit us both some slumber; Allow us both some breathers; Because, we're both getting too old For the shallow, childish games That we once desired and played. Life has never been a paradise-- Nor was it ever meant to be hell; But, we're both still alive-- Even when my dog-eared pages Are all but filled with the dead. The erstwhile passages written On me are starting to fade; It's time to discard the ache; Make way, instead, for jouissance And something more relevant Like self-respect and self-love. "Diary Talk" Stop with the tears, my dear; Cease the heaving, grovelling sighs And endless snivelling, I hear. Let go of the ancient memories And dry those eyes in tears. You knew that this wasn't easy;
