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The Life of a Tear (standard:romance, 364 words)
Author: Hopeless RomeoAdded: Mar 23 2001Views/Reads: 3585/1Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
"If I died and could come back as anything, I'd so so as one of her tears, for what more could I ask than to be conceived in her heart, born in her eyes, live my life on her cheeks, and die on her lips?"
 



The Life of a Tear 

It was conceived in her heart. 

At a moment during which she was only dimly aware of the pain being
inflicted upon her by her situation, and she struggled without knowing 
to inwardly battle the ever-growing despair that would soon claim her 
being. 

It was born in her eyes. 

Once glimmering pools of passion and joy become the windows into her
soul, windows that betray her emotions to any casual observer as she 
becomes more conscious of the hurt at the heart of her.  And as the 
pain blossoms from a mere seed into a black flower of anguish the pools 
surrender a single drop of emotion, encapsulating in itself the very 
essence of what it is to hurt, and epitomizing the agony of heartache. 

It lived on her cheek. 

Wonderfully soft and beautiful cheeks are streaked with the tangible
evidence of her feelings as the tear lives its short but powerful life, 
all the while unaware of the simple yet potent meaning of its very 
existence.  As she feels the soft dissension of the tear she considers 
swiping it away, but instead allows it to tumble down her face, to live 
until its natural death. 

It died on her lips. 

After creeping its way down the length of her lovely face it met its end
on her lips, but its legacy lived on, for it was the destiny of the 
tear, unbeknownst to the tear itself, to express in clear and simple 
terms the complicated workings of its creator’s heart.  It was unable 
to fail.  No tear ever has.  Whenever a tear is conceived anywhere, at 
any time, it will always be the singularly simplest, most powerful, 
most accurate, and most complete representation of emotion.  One must 
envy a tear for this truth, but also for the nature of its life.  For a 
tear, in its preciously short life span, is able to experience the most 
beautiful elements of a woman’s being.  Her heart.  Her eyes.  The soft 
skin of her lovely face.  And her lips.  So you see even in death, the 
tear departs with a fitting farewell from its beautiful creator.  It 
departs with a kiss. 


   


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