the Swing of Sadness and Joy

I met that couple at the party, a tall boy with a smile sewed on his face, and a pretty ginger girl, the side of her eyes were leaking down, they looked lost, watching around, who to socialize to in that room, and nothing to say to each other, that endlessly smiling boy and the forever sad girl;
i was distant, sprawled on the dark sofa in that vicious air, the guy called me, out of bore, to handle my glasses and prove the righteous impressiveness of his current studies, we will always need a good ophtalmologist... , after that little trick he left, leaving me to speak confidently with that girl he broods of his long branchy arms;
that was interesting she revealed to be out of what she looked, all decorated she was, she confessed a former knack for metal music and a sheer interest for writing and litterature, all seeming like a past life she is eager to reconquer, she jumped on that chance i gave, speaking of me and my likings with that cheerful attitude, when we paused, my chin lifted still on the side, i was pleasantly noticing from the corner of my eyes that she was turning repeatedly her head to me in a swift move before withdrawing in a sort of musing, like she was about to speak a reflection out of her chest, then containing it at the last moment, i read the need to fuel the conversation longer, a search for something intelligent to say and the limits she had to stay behind, we continued to talk, i managed my smiles and my playful gazes, if i had smiled freely, she would have released her own repressed gaiety, her own smile made of a purple crescent filled with the shiny white of her teeth, maybe even her sad eyes would have rised and shone in that shared joy, that joy to share, to be part of a new ambient unity;
they left early and i was the one they waved their hands at, saying "goodbye", the swinging couple, that insecure smiling guy and his sadness-carved face girl.

who was happy, who was sad,
what led to mark their faces like this,

what is written on mine...