Dacryphilia

It is a very difficult thing indeed to want to cry, to be made to cry, but to resent each single tear that is shed. To feel the most protected corners of your mind, the ones which you guard so jealously, laid bare. Like a bird with broken wing, helpless in the palm of your lover, it is these moments where the tears come most freely, tracing their inky black lines of mascara.

Does your lover ever ask you why you cry? Does he whisper softly in your ear, force your lips to shape the words? Does he realise that every time he makes you weep, you lose a part of yourself to him? Perhaps he is a collector, perhaps one day he will make you whole.

It is a very difficult thing indeed to want to cry, to be made to cry.

*Should probably qualify this as being unrelated to Alistair. It's a kinky thang.