The man who had the courage to cry

The man who had the courage to cry

Men cried in my arms.  I've had this good fortune in this life, to have men cry in front of me.  I never made it a goal.  But I was lucky to be wet with man's tears.  I have never felt such a great privilege as when two short tears fell on my palm.  There were only two.  They were worthy.  The courage of a man to cry in front of a woman stirred in my soul.  The courage of a man to be himself, in the empty soul in front of a woman.  To be what society whispered hypnotically to her that she was not allowed to be, ever since she hadn't become a man.

 

 Men cried in front of me, and then I felt small.  I felt as if I had found untouched ruins of ancient civilizations, I felt as if I had been chosen, as if a knowledge had been placed before me to which a mortal would not even have been entitled.  to vacuum.  I felt undeserved.  Too much for what I could have done for a man in a woman's life.  I felt them like two gems in the hand of a beggar.  So precious, and me so simple.  So rare as to be given to me.

 

 My men cried.  And I didn't feel sorry for a second.  I felt ashamed, I felt an overwhelming strength of character.  I felt on my knees for their courage to do so.  I felt guilty, I felt bad.  What do you mean?  Have you had a soul all this time?  Did your love exist, even though it was different?  I never knew I was so dirty.  I realized how much the soul fits into a man's tears.  What sincerity.  What a manhood.  And how naive in the heart of a woman who wanted guarantees and stumbled upon shit.

 

 I don't think I've ever seen more manhood in a man, like when he allowed himself to shed two dignified tears, with his back straight, leaving in silence.  I had to sit down when I realized that men don't cry in front of anyone and that I had just stopped being someone for that man, who surrendered with his head held high.  Which taught me, the woman, what tears actually mean.  Which taught me a lesson about how tears should only be given to men, because they know how to make sense of them in a certain way, away from the caressed tears of women.

 

 I asked a man: How much pain can fit in a man's soul that is not said?  He replied: All.  And now I wonder, how much pain can fit in a man's tears to be shown?  I didn't answer, my words died.

 

 Regards,

 

 Men who had the courage to cry.

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