The tears started to track their way reluctantly down the curvature of your face, hanging for a moment in trepidation before giving in to that final, irresistible pull towards the floor. As they hit the marble glowing flowers began to bloom, gaining momentum as they reached up toward the ceiling with an almost tentative curiousity. The stone beneath them cracked, pulled apart, and began to float lazily in to the air as if drawn to the brightening canopy forming above. The deep sigh that left your lungs after such a tragically short breath turned to feathers, stark white in the half light.
You made something beautiful, you see, from your sadness; something which was astonishingly heartbreaking and breathtaking in equal measure. That was a rare thing to do in itself, really. Sadness took many forms, but in your experience beauty was not often one of them.