A/N: This was originally going to be a oneshot, but when I sat down to write it, I wrote a poem. It's about the time after Edward left, in his POV.
He sits, inhumanly still
Only his hands moving
Dancing across the keys
Weaving a melody of sorrow and despair
He chokes back non-existent tears
A lump catching in his throat
For he is alone
Alone in his pain
All have abandoned him
Or is it that he has abandoned all?
He doesn't know anymore
Life has long stopped making sense
And the music changes, as his mood changes
It gets angrier, his desperation showing
Before it drifts back into a mournful key
As he registers the fact he has no reason to be angry
He has brought this torment upon himself
If he is going to lay the blame
It is himself to which he should be pointing
The music slowly descends in volume
Growing quieter and quieter
Until it is no more than a whisper
And that fades
As well as the rest of his life
The hope, the love, the meaning
He stands
The music no longer holding any comfort
It is now just a painful reminder of what once was
But is no more
