Their face, unmoving and cold; slightly damp to the touch from the sparse rain. Not a word, nor twitch, nor a breath.
Their face laying towards the humming buzz of the lights above.
A Rose, neatly cut and trimmed in their hair, a rose I gave them for our own palentine's day of sorts.
A day of remembrance that we shared.
Their dress made a fine silk, a blue vibrant hue covers it.
A special dress like that for a special night, a cold now dreary night.
The rain picks up almost like trying to wash away the scene.
Her shoes so beautiful.
Made just for her by an old friend.
There beautiful luster shines, cheaper than the common wear.
The luster might be beautiful but that quality and overall durability are quite lacking, as they scuffed so easily and a heel even snapped in two.
Slowly my gaze returned, followed by the sirens.
Ever increasing in their volume until my ears begin to ring.
A man came up to me that night and reaffirmed my loss.
The glass still falling from the window above as the rain continued falling on the concrete and the scene below.
That face, a visage, still haunts me.
She wasn't of horror, nor fear, nor anything I could describe except...
Regret..
Painful and everlasting..
Regret.
