He was curled in the corner behind his favorite window on a cold autumn day. In front of him lay a single photograph with two smiling figures, his beautiful blue eyes stung with unshed tears as they roamed about the view outside and how the cold wind blew away the falling leaves. His mind stuck on a memory where he tried to find a reason but found nothing to hold him back.
How many times had he crossed the same road? He did not know. He was only aware of the bleeding wound that never seemed to stop as it only increased with each minute. He wanted to convince himself that one day his lover wound return but he knew better.
Many hours, days has passed in complete silence somehow it was disturbingly comforting as the clock kept ticking away. He was used to loneliness, he was used to getting turned down, pushed away, hated, mocked, underestimated even forced that was all normal by now and he really didn't care anymore.
He thought that his lover was his only savior and with him he felt loved, wanted, safe, free, known, equalized but it had to end, and even though it indeed ended he was struggling to maintain what ever hope that was left.
The road, that road, he could have almost swore that he saw the silhouette of his missed lover but there was no one, his mind was playing tricks on him and that damn heart couldn't stop hurting.
His nostrils caught the smell of smoke that still lingered in air after his lover had gone. His eyes burned once again. He felt that he was getting consumed, devoured,
drowned in the darkness of the deepest hole he'd ever fallen into.
He kept on staring out of that window as his heart dwelled on pouring blood from the wound that he knew too well would never be able to heal.
Everything ends. Everything goes, and eventually even hope leaves.