Love does not Mean Perfection

The silver moon shone down upon her milky flawless skin. It was a night so perfect that you just wanted to eat it alive. Bottle it up into a tiny bottle and drink the sweet liquor until the void of intoxication reached your very soul. Only those who have experienced pure and selfless love can really understand the perfection of the moon and the delicacy of the girl’s skin being bathed in the silver light cascading from the sky. I don’t know if God had left a little piece of heaven drip down, or if Devinci had created a living breathing Mona Lisa, but something godlike had created this scene of utter perfection. My eyes wondered to hers and giant crystal tears rolled down her flawless cheeks. Each tear falling and falling and falling off of her face until they crashed down to oblivion on the grassy ground. I couldn’t tell what was wrong; I had no idea of what to do, but to just stare at this perfect night and at this perfect girl sitting in love and beauty, but in complete misery. Nothing in me knew what to do at this sight; nothing in me knew how to comfort her. All I could see were those silver tears floating in the silver light of the moon, and falling and falling and falling. She was so beautiful, but so in pain. Every inch of her body shuttered in the light cringing in the emotional pain she was experiencing. I kept staring at her until she looked me in the eye. Her big green eyes shined like glass marbles, so huge and breathtaking. Almost as if I was looking into the eyes of the goddess Hera. The only thing I could see in those big beautiful eyes was desperation. A cry for help. A cry for love. I didn’t know what happened to this beautiful girl, but all I knew is that the loneliness and isolation that I felt coming through her too this day still haunts me. Those big puppy dog eyes stared up at from across the green grass and silver moon and all I wanted to do was to embrace her and give her the love and comfort any human being deserves. But all I could do is stand there staring. Everything in my body wanted to help but some force held me back watching the pain. Watching the misery. She looked at me and began to cry harder, every muscle in her face twisting and contorting in a pain that seemed to rip from her gut. Ugliness took over as this beautiful scene of love and perfection turned to disaster. The moonlight’s beauty now seemed overwhelming and the milky perfection of the girl’s skin turned to pale emaciation. She ripped and tore at her shiny brown hair and scratched her pale perfect skin until thin lines of bright red blood appeared streaming down her arms. All I could do is watch with sick fascination. Watching and waiting to see what would happen next. I still couldn’t move. Still couldn’t help her. All I could do was watch. The sight was terrible as she continued to strip away all of her beauty all of her perfection until the only thing that was left of her was bright red flesh glowing in the night air. She finally stood still dripping blood and puss onto the blood soaked grass. Then she looked up at me for one final time with those perfect green eyes and unpinned the brooch on her shirt and gouged them out in two swift motions. In the span of about ten minutes this heaven had turned to hell and instead of an angle standing before me I know had some sort of ungodly crazy figure. She began to feel her way across the grass in my direction. Limping and staggering along, rubbing dirt into her sore open wounds in the process. She walked halfway towards me and collapsed into the embrace of the warm earth. She lay there for a moment letting the calmness of nature soothe her and then started crawling until she was within arms length of my toes. She reached out and touched my foot as sighed as if comforted by having some sort of human connection. She pulled herself with great effort off of the ground and looked at me with those empty sockets and whispered into my ear “You think you know beauty. You think you know perfection. You think you know love, all by looking at my beauty. But the one thing you never bothered to try to know was me.” And with those last breathes she collapsed in a pile of red oblivion onto the green grass under the silver moon into a bed of death. Green eyes and the moon were never the same.1