This moisture it appears
A liquid slightly salty in taste
translucent and without haze
Sometimes it’s a trickle
Rarely it’s a river
Often it just pools
But right now
while the source stews
It’s filled with a longing
It collects near its ducts
Swashing down and around
A sniffle it’ll cause
This face is leaking
Another tissue dabbing
It’s all part of the healing