A speaker describes the moments after someone they love has gone. At first they insist they haven't cried, and the repeated denials ("I didn't cry," "I never shed a tear," "I still don't have any tears") sound like someone trying to hold themselves together. They admit they're in shock and that their heart aches, but the crying hasn't come yet. They even guess it might happen later.
Then the poem turns. The speaker's eyes blur and the page gets wet, and the tears show up without being invited. The line "Oh, hello tears" is almost a joke, a small, startled greeting, as if the speaker is meeting an old acquaintance they didn't expect. That bit of dry humor makes the grief feel more honest. The mood is quiet and numb at first, then softly raw. Notice that the speaker is writing as the tears fall, so the poem itself becomes the place where the feeling finally breaks through.