In Hysterics

I cannot cry these days only laugh hysterically mirth bubbling out from behind lips squeezed tight against this tide of irony that threatens to overwhelm me every time I speak or think or act on whims that lead me to remember to remember but I cannot cry about that fateful betrayal that I sometimes often wish had lasted much longer than it did I can feel the tears resting just behind my eyes I can feel the sobs pressing against my rib cage I can feel the anguish pounding in time to the hammering of my heart but all I can do is cover my face with my trembling hands and ask silently tremulously why I have been left here to laugh at my own pain and be barred from healing by tears I cannot be healed I cannot cry these days.