Real Tears

He was crying

Real tears
of the kind that can soak up a pillow,
of the kind that cannot be held back
of the kind that keep rolling down cheeks
like twin silent little streams of distress.

She sat up on the bed
perplexed
deeply moved
unsure of how he'd like her to deal with it
and of why he was crying.

Τheir time together -first ever!-
 almost up

she  was still in that special haze of pleasure
he had intentionally set up
the orgasm fairy world
of his own orchestration
and she was trying 
to let all those miracles of body and soul
 sink in
that orgy of colors
and smells 
and whispers 
and sighs
to just cool down.

''Ι won't think long term', she told herself.
'It was a once in a lifetime experience
'I'll just cherish the memories
make do with just this
a one time thing...''

that's what she told herself
plus, she didnt have much time to think of anything
at all,
too much fucking
too much loving
in that big, big bed
in that small, small rented room
in that small, small neutral town
in that heavenly, blissful date
of consumated love.

But it was almost parting time
and he was crying
in a very real and human way
her stud crying
for what?

''Why?''

''The dream is over'', he answers.
Just like that.
Simple.

''Then, you dont want it to be over?''
His calm, deep voice:
''No...''

Just like that,
they decide to
keep the magic alive
to keep it going
to be together.

No drama,
no waiting by the phone for her
like a true chivalrous knight
he spared her the pain
or the inner doubts
or the misgivings
the 'what ifs'
of ambiguity

no commitment phobia of his male ego
just gliding gracefully along
smoothly,
 flying
along the dancing floor of their budding love story.

She kisses him gratefully.
''But..how?'', the details seem too confusing to her.

'We'll find a way', he reassures her in that velvet voice of his.

Then off she goes,
all the takeaway delicacies he bought for her journey
forgotten
left behind in his car.

But she was full anyway