A Crying Space

I need a crying space, between the slaps  
And the invasive kisses on the lips  
That you will compensate me with, perhaps?  
Or do you simply grab my hair and twist  
More tears from my submissive eyes, before  
You tug me down to serve you on my knees;  
And see my red eyed glances, as you score  
My throat with spurts of cum, until you ease  
Your way out and enjoy, in retrospect,  
How your tumescence manifests itself:  
Still puissant, even though it's not erect,  
But waiting for new urges and a wealth  
Of sorrows to explode in tears - I try  
In vain to hold them for that space to cry...