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The Last Return

Sadness.
The colour of honey in his eyes now comes with a bitter tinge of sadness.
How could the universe allow his heart to bear the pains of this world when the pink blush on his cheekbones tells me he still possesses the pure and delicate love the rest of us left behind in our distant childhoods, or maybe never had.
I want his sadness to leave his face and come into mine. If that means his love can stay in the light that sheds from his honey coloured eye.
Sadness.
The red muscle pumping blood in my chest, the colour of a puzzle of missing pieces. He, everyday further from my reach, and another missing piece falls into place.
How strange it is, to create, a whole puzzle that is not there. How strange it is that because of his missing, there isn't even a there anymore.

He sits silently, looking at his feet. I swing as if the sadness falling upon us is not a big elephant in the park. But we know it is. Because his eyes become darkened when he says: "Really, I'm fine".  Because, the light of love that sheds from him is twitchy and uncomfortable.
We know, there's an elephant the size of sadness because, I feel mad, crying, beating up a pillow until the fluff bursts out kind of mad; at the cause of his sadness. Or maybe... I'm mad that I can't fix it. Or maybe... I'm mad that I don't want to be the one to fix it.

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