Tears in my soul become tears in my eyes.
Tears came as if her pain had at last condensed into a deluge of rain.
Show me your silvery tears, the ones on the skin of your heart. Show me your rainbow tears, the ones that come when you see the sunshine through the storm. Show me the tears that are cried beneath what the rest of the world can see, what the eyes miss yet love renders visible. The bravest thing you will ever do, sweet love, is to show me your tears, for what is tearing you apart cannot be a part of you, but something to be healed in the gentle ways of our kind.
Tears came as if, at long last, her accumulated ocean of brine was trickling through.
I'll cry over a sad movie, or in empathy for another, but for myself there's not a drop. I don't express my own pain that way. I'm not sure why. It is as if there is a blockage. Perhaps it's functional. I've been through a lot and crying was never going to do me any good.
In those tears is the proof of your good soul and how you love.