Tears in Twilight's Eyes

Once this moment passes, the crimson blush of evening will fade to ash-gray; even in the pale twilight, that single drop of water clinging to her earlobe seems to glimmer still. Everything I had seen until now was illusion; the regret of not being able to touch her rain-soaked, disheveled hair filled me with remorse for the first time; surpassing all my wonder, she had been the first to come to my door, so reluctant to rest even for a moment.

Even until the very instant before leaving, she had told me with a smile that love requires no qualifications. Yet like a fool, I had ignored her words and busied myself seeking refuge in the forbidden enchantment of this power-hungry worthiness, in none of whose corners could I bring her back to me; for there was never any certainty of emotion there.

Today I think of how much she had pleaded—that I give her alone the joy I found in the brightness of my laughter, in her longing. Was I truly so cruel then? Why couldn't I honor her helpless entreaty that day! I kept feeling as if I had stolen away even that small comfort that gathers in the joyous celebration of birds just before they beat their wings for the last time. I had made her cry terribly that day; I had wanted her to shatter completely, to destroy that emotion and intoxicate herself with surviving in reality's race, to push me so far away that living wouldn't hurt her.

I believe she will become an extraordinary person; but where is my sacrifice in this? Do I truly deserve this praise? What am I thinking! All this time I've accepted that her love for me was one-sided. Then why does my heart wish that she would tenderly protect me with everything she has!