The rust began to form the very second she closed the door to my heart. There would be no more of her smell. My lips would never again taste hers. The tattered remains of my heart fell to the ground and all hope drained from me. My mind fought the voices ordering my own death yet knew the peace would be soft. The rough edges of my life now would forever more cut anything beautiful that came near me. I knew that one day, a hundred years from now, that door wouldn’t open again, rusted shut, allowing no other woman to enter my life.
2 comments:
sounds sad and lonely. but there are ways to remove that rust
lube in a can?
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