(from happiness, to sadness, to beauty, to sexual arousal)

I had never sensed her to be so calm, there lay a veil of serene happiness over her face, gliding down the curves of her body that carried her spirit as she sat motionless at the table across from me. I had never seen her happier, I never felt my love for her so strongly resonate, as if white light reflected from her aura, and broke into a rainbow of happy colors. Her eyes were absorbed by the deep, endless, bottomless eternity of her soul, that streamed into the vastness of her irises, through which I entered the dark pit of her self. We talked, we drank, we shared a last glass of red wine. Simple happiness formed between us, not even a hairsplit of a thought wedging a crack of self consciousness. This drunkenness encapsulated us in a crystal cocoon, sheltered from the world of crude reality. I felt a quietude between us, a moment in which we violated the locality of our bodies and Sartre’s impossibility of love. She devoted herself to me, and I loved her for this.

I looked at the empty glass in front of us, the watery glance in her eyes. Tears welled up. Her tears welled stronger and thicker, formed a film of refracting light, until the surface tension of her tears finally broke, and a drop rolled toward the edge of her eye. A single sliver burst slowly from the surface of her face and trickled down her cheek, across the corner of her mouth. It dissolved into the breath she took, leaving on her face a trailing trace of the sadness that crawled into her heart. From the moon’s face a source of tears welled up. I stuck my index finger out and placed it upon the sad snail’s trail to quel the hurt from bleeding. The stream that sprang from her eye was soft like cotton plush. I grabbed her fragile face between the cushioned pillows of my palms, pressed them softly together, and squeezed out the drops, turned the drops into a fountain, cracked open the source further to indulge in her pain, see and witness it in full force, most truthfull being wholesome. An infection of her happiness had accumulated a pile of pus in a large abscess of sadness that craved relief. Her watery eyes were pointed at my stare that absorbed the beautiful expressionlessness of her face.

I could not help to think how stunning her deep sorrow looked this evening. Her beauty was build upon a solid foundation, but erected it was so elusive, so fragile that I could not help to admire it. She was without restraint and overwhelmed by the larger emotion of her soul, lacking every grip to control the course of it.

The sight rushed along my heart and possessed my stomach and chest in a split second. Neurons were fired into my brain, from it thoughts and images rapidly stirred me into an even deeper stare of glancefull ideas. My crotch, my pants’ crotch started to tighten and an erection formed quickly while I scrutinized ever part of the gentle skin on her face that now had acquired a blissful silverly shine due to the rolling tears.

I reshuffled my hard-on, placing it comfortably down the left side of my crotch. I stared at the tacit movement of her lips. I wished to kiss her. I traced her vermillion, the color of her blood vessels, the color of her heart, the color of her blood, the color of her eyes as her tears welled up. She showed no attempt to restrain her sadness that now covered her face, she started to cry motionless, not tweaking a muscle in her face of body, her arms still quietly resting on the table top. Redness colored her sclera and exposed a fragile organic love. I wanted to enforce her, to break her, to make her crumble before me, break down in tears over me, and at the same time possess her. I wanted to force her lips to settle around my penis and fuck her mouth till she gagged, till more tears flowed from her eyes, preventing her from the relief that she might crave, choking her without a breath that could have quenched her sorrow, and would have washed her beauty away.

But to hurt her more, I needed to love her first. To let me take possession of her, she needed to love me more. I pulled her face toward me across the table, and gently touched her tear with my lips, sucked and licked the drops that her tear glands excreted. Her eyes looked even more troubled as my tongue licked over her cheeks, creating a saliva trail over her already wet cheeks. A smile crossed her tear. She tasted more delicious than before, more sweet than I ever tasted her, the taste of tears is salty like her luscious sweat.