TL

I once knew a man whose experience radiated in the sweat and stubble and fat of a life spent searching for the beauty that makes your heart break at the first sign of its existence, and for which you'd gladly devote the rest of your days in the hope that you may prolong its demonstration for one...more...moment.
If only.
From this man came three examples of love, light shining through the creaks of their smiles and the ironic wisdom of their short experience. These examples cured an illness for which I hadn't known I was afflicted, their souls crushing mine into believing that its remedy was possible in all of us. And when I found myself in the scorching depths of the eldest, a stunning sage of abbreviated affection, I did my best to heed the halting screams of violent life that had been bestowed upon her small, perfect breasts from the time her eyes first met the world and began dancing innocently in all its damning potential. And when she left and took with her the game we had created, the rules of which were forged in the fucking and sweating of youthful ignorance, my eyes met a temporary fog in which every shape and color became tainted with the proof of her departure and its startling reality, and after endless days spent lamenting this occurrence I somehow felt content in knowing that the life breathed into her gnawing existence was done so by the man drenched in sweat and stubble and fat, the man from whom I learned the beauty in abbreviated sensations of comfort and hope and the blinding joy in the search for more.