Sometimes she watches him from afar, her eyes blank and her heart pulsing with the slow and steady ache of unrequited love.
It's for the best.
That's what he told her when she confessed her love to him.
"I think we're better off as friends."
He left after that, leaving her alone. Always leaving her alone.
It's for the best…but who is it really best for?
He no longer spares her another thought. It's no more than she expected, but it still hurts.
She gave him all of her heart. Everything she had. And it wasn't enough.
She gave up everything, but he had nothing to give in return. And nothing will ever come of nothing.
An empty love.
She turns away from him.
Nothing is there. Nothing ever was. Nothing ever will be.
She walks away.
It will always be empty.