The Love that chooses us

The Love that we choose to forget
                                           remembers
The Love that we choose to reject
                                           accepts
The Love that we choose to move away from
                                           draws near
The Love that we choose to push away
                                            insists
The Love that we choose to give up
                                           perseveres
The Love that we choose to hurt
                                            forgives
The Love that we choose to curse
                                            blesses
The Love that we choose to disown
                                           pursues us
The Love that we choose to stop
                                           continues
The Love that we choose to break
                                           grows
The Love that we choose to cheat
                                            remains faithful
The Love that we choose to depreciate
                                            values
The Love that we choose to hate
                                           understands
The Love that we choose to abandon
                                           stays

This First Love that so many choose to lose is our true gain.
This Love, His love, that we may choose not to choose, steadfastly chooses us.

Tears stopped and she wrote

Maybe somewhere in a left or right ventricle that bleeds, blood turns into water and finds its way out through the eyes.

These drops happen to be called tears.

Some think they're called tears because they can tear people apart. But tears are supposed to tear the sorrow, anger, and hurt from the big chunks that they are into smaller pieces to let blood circulate freely again in the heart without obstructions.

The eyes that shed the most tears are, of course, the most swollen. (after severe crying)

But aside from that obvious fact, those eyes are paired with hearts that feel the most,  deeply and wholly.

Crying is the language of the hurt, confused, broken, betrayed, and grieving.
They express more than words could do for them when they weep, mourn, and sob.

To some, crying is a weakness, an immaturity, a lack of of rationality.
        They are the insensitive race.
To some, crying is the only resort, a habit, an entire day's toil.
        They are the long-born infants.

To me, the true brave and strong cry.
       
To them, crying is a seasonal or the last blow of pain,
and the first step to being brave and strong.