Black Tears Meaning Novels & Stories

“Well. That’s pretty definitive.” I nodded once. Then again. And then I started crying. Rachel blinked. “Wait… are those happy tears or sad tears? I thought you said we were happy.” “I am,” I said quickly, swiping at my face. “These are happy tears. They’re also terrified tears. And overwhelmed tears. And what-if-Stacy-doesn’t-want-this tears.” Rachel turned fully toward me, taking both of my hands. “Listen to me, Beth. Stacy is going to be over the goddamn moon.”

Coincidentally, familiar words came across her mind at this deadly time, 'Don't cry, Méah. And it was too late for her to realize what those words meant. Huge cracks originating from where the droplets of fluid from her tear glands landed, crawled indefinitely on the hard ground, spreading its claws everywhere. While everyone was desperately chasing for the safety of their lives, strands of black smoke sneakily leaked out of it like a fierce beast hunting carefully hunting for its prey. First, they appear thinly and then eventually grew thicker until it has filled every occupiable space. No one knew because no one had seen it coming as it fused perfectly with the unending darkness of the wo

a tear cold down my left cheekbone, “I can't fail you, that's the truth.” I opened my vision, wiping my cheek. Throughout my entire life I have cried rarely and it is not that I considered crying to be a weak gesture. But because I have promised myself to shed tears for the right people. Tears are not always synonymous with sadness, because even when we are happy we cry, thanks to them we know that we are alive and that we have feelings. Tears are the manifestation of the soul through the eyes. “Big dad, if you can hear me, I need you to tell me if I'm doing the right thing, send me a sign.”

My room’s the best place for me to be right now, except, the black feels quite morbid; not as if colors would have a better effect. I feel like I’m deep in an ocean, where the glimpses of light from above have died away, and all that’s left is an all-around tenebrosity suffocating me even faster than the water. I suck in breath, tears burning at the sides of my eyes, tingling in my lungs, grafting to be let out. But I’ve told myself ‘Heidi, you’re not shedding one more tear on this matter’, so I’ll stand by that.

My eyes flickered to his face and I asked, "So, tomorrow we go back into annoying each other?" He nodded with a small smile while his hand that's under my head ran through my hair. He twirled the black ribbon between his finger and questioned, "What does black mean again?" That's why I don't want to lose him. He knows me, everything about me, he knew that I wear the color best suiting my mood. With him, I can be myself. "It means I am making a funeral." I mumbled, "Because this day kinda sucked." A low chuckle rumbled from his chest before he untied the bow and removed the ribbon away. He placed it over the night stand, and at my confused expression, he explained, "The day is almost over, we

I managed to say, though tears threatened to spill once more. For a year now, I've worn black as a constant reminder of the grief from losing my baby. At this moment, I was engulfed by a mixture of sadness, anger, and self-pity, a departure from the familiar grip of panic attacks that haunted me, serving as a stark reminder of my tumultuous past.

“It was your heart which was stained black.” “Black…” I smiled emptily, putting my hand over my chest, not looking at her. “You are right. It’s black. That’s why no one could understand the silenced words- not even you.” I said. “Because they are not silenced but rather buried in your heart.” “Then dig it out… please.” I looked at her, sniffling, my voice hoarse. Tears brimmed in my eyes, looking at hers and shining like a crystal. “Behold the fiery fire.” I whispered breathlessly, managing to keep my emotions at bay.

his cheeks soaked in tears. I caressed his bug and hugged Blake. “Shhh. Let’s keep our faith strong. They will wake up,” I fight hard my tears, but they were uncontrollable. It was the first time I witnessed a strong and tough man crying over his son. “Damn these tears,” he sobbed. “It’s okay, Blake. Tears are not a sign of weakness nor a measurement of one’s masculinity. We cried because we are human and we feel sadness,”

he whispers, gently rubbing my back. I shake my head. “Laurel, there is a sacredness in tears, they are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than a thousand prayer recitals. Your tears, they are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.” He pulls back and brushes away the wet strands of hair that are now plastered on my face. “You can cry.” And I do. The dam that had held my tears, grief, bitterness and anger in check finally burst and I let out an ear-piercing scream; a scream that curses at the Moon Goddess for taking away the man I love, for being so relentlessly cruel and unfair.

"Blake, your indifference towards me is palpable, and it hurts deeply." My lips never formed those words. This consumes my thoughts. As I fix my gaze upon him, my eyes brim with tears that cascade down my cheeks. His eyes bore into mine, brimming with a profound sadness that seemed to defy explanation or understanding.