If I had tears to shed for you,
I’d weep until the puddle soaked my feet.
Kneeling, I’d spread their moisture across the floor
And they’d freeze to twisted stamps of sorrow.
But as I stood, gnarled fingers outstretched
Toward your miserable form,
My shuffling feet would shatter the ice
Into a million jagged fragments,
And when I turned away in horror
The shards would fly as daggers,
And shred your tortured body and soul,
Till naught remained but an icy pool of crimson gore.
Palsied hands trembling, pressed tight against my thudding eyes,
I’d leave you, unaware of the destruction I’d wrought
But for the shuddering of my shoulders
And a stomach-churning scent of salt and iron in the air.
If I had tears to shed.