The stillness that settled on his heart since he lost her was a hard and heavy stillness, even if it somehow continues to beat.

He was already worse and sad during the day, but at night he would be engulfed by the melancholy and would self-destruct.
It was in those darkest, emptiest hours before morning would come again, the silence threatens to drown him entirely, for at that time he wasn’t there.
In those times he would imagine a world where to lay down together side by side laughing together, hands dancing as soon as it met, but he lived in the life where they were apart.

He knew that her life was just a loan, but was he really meant to be alone?
Every day he hurt, and hurt, and hurt.
And every day he waited for the day it won’t hurt anymore.

He spent his nights dreaming her, being enchanted that met.
And in the morning he would wake up without her.

Her absence made him lonelier than being alone ever did.