Happiness is the saddest illusion

Waiting in the rain for an angel to awake

Sometimes it's hard to think that you're actually gone, that no matter how hard I cry or scream or beg, you're never going to come back to me.
Just the knowledge that I'll never have your delicate warmth around me again hurts my bleeding heart more than I think I can handle.
I'd give anything to hold you one more time, to breathe in your welcoming scent and see your beautiful smile.
What I would give for you to be safe in my arms again, instead of wrapped in that suffocating white satin.

The young man almost breaks under the weight of the torturous thoughts crammed in his already overcrowded mind. he trudges slowly through the torrential rain, towards a dingy cemetery.

As he steps in front of the marble headstone, the thoughts clear, seeming to wash away with the tears that cascade down his pale face, disguised and lost amid the raindrops pouring relentlessly from the depressive clouds above his head.
"I'm sorry" a whisper escapes his frozen lips as he falls, agonised, to his knees, shaking with the force of his grief. It's almost as though he can hear an answering voice on the sharp wind that whirls around him, pushing wet hair into his swollen eyes.

He kneels by the fresh grave in the icy rain for hours after his tears let up. Night falls and the man doesn't move; it's almost as though he's waiting for an angel to rise from the buried casket and accompany him inside, to a place that's warm and calm, so unlike the stormy reality he's painfully living.

The man is still there, cold and unmoving by the next morning. He eventually rises as the sun appears over the evergreen bushes lining the lifeless yard.

It's with an apparent pain that he leaves, yet more tears leaking from his tired eyes as his back turns to his fallen companion.

And then he's gone and the graveyard lays as still and barren as it ever was.