He stood at the edge of the cliff,
feet sliding through
whistle at the rear
He puffed, he panted
as he ran down the dimly lit road
bent at the end
the end ran faster than him
He held on
as raindrops fell
on his forehead
rippling emotions surged past
masking the agony in his smile
as alms and coins he compiled
he gathered
fragments of a smile from within
and tossed it into her empty heart
unpacking the burden of hers
Draining half burnt pages in ink,
an old, broken pen he held
in his trembling fingers drenched in black,
sifting through scores of sheets,
overwriting letters repeatedly,
agitatedly forming those words
irrelevant in their meaning,
sentences intended to create a design then,
losing relevance with each passing stroke,
emotions transcended through
the nerves in his spine
to the tip of his left hand,
as the middle finger of his right
dripped profusely of red,
and finally he lay there in peace
for he had lived those memories
through the moments they were the best…
