An experiment-in-style piece. Please review, I want to know if I should do more like this.
Thanks.
It's funny, really.
How much it hurts.
More than you'd think. It's funny how one tiny little organ can cause you so much pain. All it's duty is to bring oxygen around the body, tip to toe, but it does so much more than that.
It is first and foremost, the centre for love. It swells when one first falls in it, beats faster in company of "the one".
But when it breaks, it doesn't just break. It shatters. It crashes to the floor, and the love you once felt, and the memories once shared, come tumbling with it.
And what hurts the most is the other person just walks away. Their heart full of life, beating solidly. The get a full heart and you get stuck with a broken one. A schism down the centre, all the love pouring out of it, because you feel you could never love again.
And some don't. Some hold onto the ghost of lovers past. The memories once fond feeding the fire that is the cracked heart of theirs.
But sometimes, neither get broken hearts. One sees the separation coming, and prepares. Embraces what is yet to come. And the pain almost isn't there.
And sometimes, just sometimes, they both get shattered hearts. A need to leave, a need to move on, a need to live without the past haunting them, can all cause this.
And that's just what happened.
The younger soul didn't know it, unfortunately.
He was left crying, fat tears creeping from glasz eyes staining his pale cheeks. The hazel eyes saw the pain, and he hid his own. He told the other that he was sorry, and then he turned around. And he left. He walked away.
And then, only then, when he was gone from the taller boy, did he let the tears fall. Tears taken from a never ending pool of regret. Because his heart was also cracked. The boy was his life. He needed him. But he felt, more than that, he needed to move on.
Years later, he walks the streets in the ghostly moonlight glow. The night was always calming to him. He had no fears of what could happen, they who lurk in shadows could do no worse to him than he had already done to himself. He walks the avenues in the city of dreams, where he and the one that once loved him swore to run to.
He hasn't seen the boy in person since. He has looked into the haunting glasz eyes in magazines more times than he can dare count, but the boy has not looked back into his since the day he regrets most.
The taller boy had gone onto fame and fortune, Broadway, modelling, designing. He had it all. Almost. He stitched his heart back together with threads of time but it still never the same. It never would be. The older boy would never know, but the younger resented the other for getting away without a scratch on his heart. For abandoning him.
He was wrong.
The older still lived on the ghost that was the chesnut haired boy. The boy that he could never have.
He walked back to his small apartment in the inner city. Feet dragging up the stairs, he turned his key into an ancient lock. The door clicked open, and he trudged inside. He ripped his decaying shoes off his feet and threw them at the door. He slowly walked into his room and pulled a fading picture from under the mattress. A smiling seventeen year old, and his older curly haired lover. The beauty of the seventeen year old was impossible to deny. Chestnut hair, porcelain skin, and glasz eyes, the boy was adored by many around the world. But most of all by the boy holding the aged picture. And he kissed the boy on the forehead before putting it under his mattress once more, like he had done every night for the past six years.
