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It was quiet, the sound of nature flowing through his ears, accompanied by the soft winds around them. But it was a quiet night, the river flowing steadily, its murky waters dark from its lack of light.
He sipped his drink tenderly, a reminiscent feeling settling on his lips. A cold numb burrowing in his stomach, a heavy fog permanent in his chest. A foul soul taking up his mind, It’s always been the same, well he’d like to think so anyway.
Feet planted on the same bridge, a year later, the same cold feeling in his body.
God- what had even pulled him up last time, cause him to walk with unsteady feet away from his demise?
Was it fear?
Or did the fire in his heart still have a willingness to burn, clinging to the leftover embers to continue burning?
But now here he was, the flame dying once again, no one around to slip more kindling into his heart. Allow it to beat another day, no the flame was dying, the winds supplying no oxygen, just smothering it further into the ground.
Did his flame ever burn brightly?
Had he been lively once? not a depressed shell of someone he could’ve been.
He brought the bottle to his lips, drown away his sorrows, and douse the flame with a willingness to die.
But whatever it was inside him, pulled him to a stop.
Would he ever be sad enough to die?
Was this just how it was? Forever cursed to be left with the feeling of hopelessness. With unsteady feet, he trembled away, sick bile bubbling up his throat. Shaky uncertainty planted in his chest.
Maybe…Next Year.