Crystal in the Candlelight
She would have been his living bride. How strange that he had not thought of it 'til that last moment as her tears mingled with his. Such sweetness! The lovely girl... She had cried with him, for her lover or himself, he would never know, but they had cried and their tears had mingled in all their soft sweetness on his cheeks. He had known such wonderful warmth, and had not wanted to lose a second of sensation. So, he had removed his mask - his hateful, wretched mask - to reveal his face... And she had not died!
She had, in fact, pressed her lips - her dear sweet lips - to his own forehead. Her life, touching his death. She had kissed him! Even his dear mother had never given him such a gift as a kiss.
He had had no choice, really, but to let her leave with her young man. He could not watch her leave, could not watch the young lovers embrace, but merely felt as her tears dried from his face, and he was left crying alone.
But, as the drops fell from his face, he saw the mixed tears from both of them shining for a single moment in the air, like crystal, in the candlelight. He would die, he knew, for he could feel his heart fit to burst within his chest with love for her, but they had cried together - alive - and she had kissed him... He would die a happy man.