My Tear

Oh, tiny drop of water, you know you're not coming out.
Is it an allergy to myself?

- Impossible. There is no danger in the sunset.

Is it a leak from my soul?

- Impossible. There is no leak when nothing's been torn.

Is it the waves from the apocalypse?

- Impossible. There is no end when the world is flat.

Then, please, who are you?

- Just some steam made out of kisses, hugs, smiles, poems. Joy.

Steam? What turned you into that?

- The Sun.

But, where do you live?

- Your skin. Your veins. Your sweat. Your breath.

Then, what are you doing here?

- It's the tipping point, your eyes.

- There's nowhere else to go. Too much steam.

And why now?

- It's too cold. I condensed into water.

What do I do with you?

- Taste me. I'm not bitter this time.

I'm in a bus. People are watching me. They're...
Funny. I can taste the whole world.