nasolacrimal

the way
you look
at me
makes me
so lonely
think of
the last
leaf
on the
big oak
tree
in autumn
waiting
to fall
to be
with
the others
think of
winter
without
spring
think of
tasting
tears
nightly
think of
a bed
too big
for one
think of
tear ducts
with
nothing
left to
offer
think of
comes around
without
goes around