He used to braid my hair every morning and take my shoes off every night before bedtime. But I was cynic and thirsty for his love; I sucked it all, never giving him something back. I lost him, but I lost him since the beginning, I was too caught up in myself to realize it. He was robotic, I led him to that, I broke him and his heart, I knew that when he was gone.
That very night, dark and cold outside, may and raining, red covered my whole body and clear drops my eyes. Emptiness I found in his strayed glance, hazed with absolutely nothing. Liquid dripping from my fingers, I didn't know what it was, maybe shame, maybe the love I never shared.
On the last moments, he smiled softly and I kissed his lips lazily, feeling cold from the inside out, velvet rubbing the skin of my stomach when sobs erupted from my dry mouth.
He braided my hair for the last time, carving his fingers slowly through the strands, and before bedtime, he took my shoes off with trembling hands.
I broke him and his heart, and he broke me when I stopped feeling his breath fanning my cheek.
