Suspended tear

I open myself in the wound,
an endless river,
where time drowns
and memories bleed.

There is no relief in the fall,
only the repetition of the echo,
the whisper of all that is lost
stuck in the skin,
like a blade that never stops cutting.

I am the suspended tear,
the echo of a thousand silences,
breaking me into what I was.

But the chrysalis, the crying,
life dawns again,
because there is always a new dawn.