They say human tears have different compositions depending on why the person is shedding them. This just confirms something I already know; all hurt is unique.

This hurt doesn’t feel like anything that came before it. It’s such a slicing finality. My ears ring and my chest vibrates in the sudden cacophony of silence.

I thought I had armor for this. I do not. Thing is, the act of truly loving is shedding your armor piece by piece until the sun kisses your skin. You bathe in that impossibly blissful, warm light until the clouds come. That’s just the way it is.

I shed my armor long ago. Now I shed my tears. I have no regrets.

Give ‘Em Hell