I once laid eyes upon a woman, lovely and chaste.
Her brown curls fell ever so gently upon her shoulders.
Her skin oh so smooth, her face so tender.
Her heart, oh so desirable.
But yet, I saw her tears flow quietly.

Kind and yet sad, this woman sat before me as her friends comforted her.
Trying to find her sadness, and quell it.
But as they tried, I sat, and watched her, musing to myself what caused her weeping- for this lily’s quiet tears disturbed my heart.
I thought of these small, wet crystals as my heart yearned to touch hers.

Like a bird’s song, she was a bright melody of this dark world.
Her tears revealed to me something I thought impossible, unreachable.
Like a violin’s voice, her tears were a symphony that caressed my heart in understanding.

But-where do these tears come from?
A sad thought forgotten or the past returning to bring sorrow?
If not, what was it then that made this soft flower cry?

In the dark room I saw the door that is her heart closed to so many.
And even though I yearned to open that door, I couldn’t.
Even now I can see its white frame oh so clearly, but none can enter…yet she is still the soft light in my black heart.

And despite that, I saw who this woman truly was: A kind one, who smiled when sad and lived when lonely.
For all of my banes and vices, I cherished her as my only peace.
My soul, knowing no light but her, yearned to be one with hers.