I was awake while the world slept,
Anchored by a sadness I couldn't name.
I was crying—
Yes, the salt is real, even if the cheeks are dry.
I weep behind my ribs,
A private storm in a locked room.
Don't worry,
I am crying right now,
A silent flood, beneath the skin.
Don't reach for a tissue
I am crying where the hands cannot reach.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem