A little

I cried a little last night.
And a little bit more the night before last night.
And I think even a bit more the night before that.

That means that I’m crying a little bit less every night, right?
I guess that means I’m becoming a bit happier every day; I must be turning into a more joyful person.

Maybe, maybe not.

Maybe it means that I’m crying a little bit more during the day.
Or that the pain refuses to come out through tears.
Or just that I’m resigned now to live my life without him, and that I lost all hope, so I keep the suffering inside.

They says they can see the pain in my eyes,
they glimpse the shadow that crosses my humanity.
They feel my sadness as a cold that climbs their spines as soon as I walk into the room.
A twinge in their hearts when they notice my face as I look at him.

They also cry a small tear every night, begging for me to be better.

Thanks,
for sharing your happy moments with me, hoping I feel as happy as you,
for thinking about how am I going to feel in some place you want to take me to,
and for not letting me drown in my own river of loneliness.

Thanks for being there, for being here.
Because of you, is that I’m crying a little bit less every night.
You take the pain away, one tear at a time.