The Story Of The Falling Boy

I met a boy last year.

With a gleam in his eyes and a perfect smile on his lips.

A heartbeat like sheet music and laughter like birds songs.

I remember the way he walked, with the silly skip that made him look like he was permanently dancing. 

The things I will do to keep him happy.

I saw the boy six months ago.

There was a gleam in his eyes but it was darker.

The smile on his lips thinner.

He didn't laugh anymore and when he walked, he walked with hunched shoulders.

Like the world stood on them.

He lost that musical feel and I lost my musical taste. 

The things I will do to make him happy

I saw the boy yesterday.

His eyes soulless like the grip of the grim reaper.

A permanent frown etched in his perfect features.

He walked with defeated strides and when he smiled, his eyes would water and he would cry tears of agonizing sorrow.

The things I must do to make him happy.

Yesterday turned to weeks.

I would call him from his old falling life into mine. I built it just for him.

Yesterday turned to months.

I saw him retreat from the world.

The one I built just for him.

He couldn't handle the lights, so just for him, I embraced the darkness.

Yesterday turned to years.

I sit at his grave now.

The sands and concrete keep him from my reach. 

I sit and remember all the times I tried to reach him.

The moments I created and crashed worlds in his name.

The times I would try to reach him and he would move further away, like that untouchable concept we're taught in physics.

He was never mine to reach.

But I realized too late.

Because look at me now.

I sit here bleeding out at his grave. The grip of Nirvana tightening.

But I know that even in the after life, he will belong to her and never to me.

I will see him though. 

Right there, just outside my reach.