I Read That if You Rub the Tears Into Your Face it Clears Your Skin

Maya Avelino

I cry a lot.

And over anything.

It seems that I wear all the bad I come across on my body. As shiny blisters bursting into open sores, weeping as I do.

It’s difficult not to scratch and prod and make myself feel worse about things that I can’t change.

But I do keep change carefully rolled in all of my coat pockets for people I meet out in the cold. 

And as I walk home, I’ll think about how quickly things can change and how most people are a few missed paychecks away from losing everything.

And I’ll cry again. If I find my coat pockets empty while on my walk, I’ll cry until I ache. I know no one wants my sympathy or sniffling.

“I’ll give you something to cry about” is something I used to hear growing up, trying to wipe the red from my eyes, sobbing into the sleeve of my sweater.

But now that I’m a little bit older and with the deep purple bruise of fatigue nestling in my bones to escape from the cold.

My sore eyes comfort me...

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Maya Avelino (she/her) is a poet, writer and first-year student at Brown University. She can be contacted at avelinomayad@gmail.com