Fingers glided against the chilling transparent frame. Eyes of sapphire blue stared up at the white moon in what seemed like a daze – as if he was ripped vastly from reality.
His lips moved softly, muttering to himself in quiet whispers.
A smile so bright, yet so maddening, smoldered his face. Both his palms laid against the cold window as his quiet whispers got louder, faster.
And he laughed hysterically and loudly. The people who walked by and witnessed could only wonder what he’s on.
All night long, without any sleep, with his eyes red and droopy and with his voice so cracked and lost – he sat, talking and talking, the eyes of his which were a dull azure sat upon always still watching that small white circle in the sky.
As the moon started to disappear for the sun was etching its way to bring another sunny morning, tears welled up alongside his tired eyes.
A smile – a sad, yet maddening smile – welled up his face.
“Good night, my love,” unlike his other undecipherable mutters, he spoke this sentence clearly from his raspy throat.
Another night, every night, shall he talk to the moon – without any fail, without stop.
