Crying Metaphors Novels & Stories

I expected him to hurt me but he only touched my now moist cheek before he gathered a tear of mine and looked fascinatingly at the drop of water on his finger. He hummed, "what does it feel like to cry?" he asked me and I simply looked into his green eyes that looked at me, clearly intrigued. I chose to keep my words to myself and not respond to him. How was I supposed to answer him? How does it feel like to cry? Crying is simply expressing your pain and sorrow.

Silent sobs wracked her body as the floodgates of her tears burst open. The tears streamed down Ava's cheeks, releasing the pent-up frustration, hurt, and confusion that had been building within her. Each sob echoed in the empty room, a poignant reminder of the shattered bond between the sisters. It felt as if a part of her had been torn away, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable.

I cried and only cried. "Crying is not your weakness, lavi. Letting your tears out, is a sign of bravery that you are accepting your sorrows the way you accept your happiness. Taking someone's help is not being weak. It needs courage to build your team and win everything." He spoke as he made me sit and wiped my tears. "You are strong. Stronger than i will ever be."

Each cry feels like an attempt to let out the pain that's taken hold of me. Nana Joyce, her eyes showing the sadness mirrored on my face, comes closer with a gentle touch. Her hands, marked by years and wisdom, try to comfort me as I give in to the flood of sorrow. In that moment, this mystical room becomes a place for my tears, where the sound of desperation fills the air. It's heavy with the burden of dreams that won't come true, and here I am, on the floor, shattered and inconsolable, grieving not just for Calhoun but for the broken pieces of what we once hoped for.

"I saw how your tears dropped; it's like a diamond coming from your eyes since you're facing the sun that's refecting the water." I frowned at what he said. Thus this man taking a drugs to be like this? I shook my head and averted my eyes in the waves of the ocean coming to the shore. "Your eyes are so pretty to cry, Miss. Don't do that again if it's all about sadness." He continued. I can't help but laugh at what I just heard. "For sadness to be gone, you need to cry out. Don't you know that?" He shrugged. "I don't do it that way."

She had stopped crying but felt feeble and stared at herself in the mirror. She did not have the right to cry, as she was the one who pushed him away. She stared through the mirror, feeling numb after the pain passed. With no sensation left, she stood quietly and chuckled. Sometimes, laughter is more despairing and more hollow than crying. If a person cries, it means that person is still feeling the pain. But when the pain is over and laughter sets in, it could mean something worse. The knuckles of the hands holding the steering wheel turned white, and blue veins popped up on his forehead as Mark clenched his jaws tightly. He hit the steering wheel with his fist and made a ton of noise.

I felt like I was searching for something, but I didn't know what it was or where to find it. The tears kept flowing, streaming down my face like a river. I was crying for Bridgette, for the pain she had endured and the loss she had suffered. I was crying for myself, for the confusion and uncertainty that was plaguing me. And I was crying for something more, something deeper and more profound.

Eve I couldn't stop crying. A raw grief tore through me, leaving me hollow and broken. The world was unfair—everything was so unfair. No matter how I tried to wipe my face clean, the tears kept falling. It was the kind of crying that came from the soul, the kind you can’t just reason through. The world had wrapped me in disappointment and squeezed. The more I thought about everything, the more I cried.

My screams grow louder, filling the silence, as my heart pounds ferociously in my chest. My throat burns from the tears and the raw screams that escape me, and in that moment, I realize I have more tears inside me than words to express my pain. So, I cry. I cry until my eyes feel heavy and no more tears can flow. I’m not just crying for Richie; I’m crying for myself, for my dad, and for every single thing that has been weighing heavily on my heart. Each sob feels like a release, an acknowledgment of the struggles I’ve been facing, and I allow myself to feel every bit of it.

His mother came out, and was pretending to be brave. I could tell, that she had been crying, who would hear such a thing and not cry, she saw tears In my eyes and started blinking her eyes in a bit to send back her own tears, that had started forming bubbles around her eyes, but off course, when the heart is too heavy with heart ache, whatever type, it may not be able to hold itself back, it will pour it all out, through that little passage, which happens to be the eyes.