He hides pain in his eyes even as he smiles. But when you meet him, be sure not to mention I said so: he’d probably tell you I have a funny bone.
He wraps his lies around the truth like a bun over the hot dog, and hey, looks good. That split second when his eyes met mine, he seemed to scour the likeness of her face in mine. I felt his yearning for her heavy the air like dark deranged clouds pacing the blues, unsure of when to. It burnt in him
like coal: glowing and simmering with each ebb in the winds, with each whisper.
No fire then, you’d say. Look closer, it prances in the heart of the dusty white black stone that could have held promise in another world.
The mind torn around the edges like a page carelessly pulled off the spine of a notebook. And blank like one.
I saw him live and die in the ten minutes he confided in me. My insides sank deeper as he smiled. I recounted all the times we’d talked and imagined the heavy weight of unrequited love on his bones.
He managed to keep himself away from most of her, yet all of her was always with him.
I saw he was broken and it saddened me too.
A deep rumbling over my head, a trickle of the first rains down my cheek and I knew.
Life goes on.