A whiff clears, a forlorn face in the mirror. Torn from his dreams, teary remnants in puffy eyes, he sees her again. A wisp of lustrous hair falls, crimson glossy lips curve in adoration; a fluffy hand skims over and rests on his bare shoulder.
And then she is gone. As she has come.
Only another dream. Blurry-eyed. Ice cold water runs from the faucet through his palms, freezes, quivers, as hands cup face.
Dribbles. Silvery on pores, on brows. Are they tears? Wash off pain. In a deluge, it comes, yet never really go away.
She is always here. In his heart, all around. Love was good, yet now...love hurts.
PS: Started writing this in my mind, while listening to Yiruma's Love Hurts, on a bus ride home...
1 comment:
Love is 五味杂成... A mix of everything..
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