Tears

I know these tears are real.
They are not the product of hormones or an overactive imagination.
They are not the product of some physical pain that's been inflicted upon me.
They are the product of you.

Of wanting you.
Of believing in you.
These tears are the product of years of wasted effort.
The product of finally realizing that you will never get it.

They are the result of a hesitant faith, but a faith in you none the less.
The result of hopeful daydreams that helped me slip into slumber while waiting for that call.
The result of a constant internal struggle of wills to resist texting you once again.

These tears are the manifestation of me regaining my senses.
Of remembering the true meaning of love.
And finally accepting that this may not be it.

These overturned wells of hope, dreams, and love approach the slanted corners of my eyes and prepare to get stuck on my lashes as they tumble down my cheeks. Where they should be met by your fingers, but are instead greeted by my pillow.

I wipe away these runaway tears as I think of you.
These tears are real.
These tears were all I had left of you.
And now, they have left me too.