turning to

tears traverse longing cheek,
Wishing for that touch,
To love is strong not meek,
Few know that much,
And for the point,
Of the painful sting,
These tears anoint,
To love’s the thing,
These waters cool yet burn,
The softest and hardest skin,
For it is you to whom I turn,
When world ceases to spin,
As I cry and exhale the this sigh,
And wonder who-where you are.
On these tears wings I’ll fly,
And gently trace the scar.