Sorrow

(Challenge: Sorrow.)

Hollow, dark eyes peered out into the darkness. Adorned with curtains of midnight lashes, the swirling gaze remained out the window. Quivering hands touched the window with elegant fingertips, dragging the feather-like touch, afraid to shatter the fragmented pieces of night. Coal locks of raven cascaded down the slender, misty back, ungoverned and uncontrollable, touching the coolness of fabric and colliding with its dead strokes. The locks were paintbrushes painting the sides of his face with an ethereal light, caressing the light coated skin with its gentleness, wrapping in a shivering embrace. He raised a single hand in the hazy, alien glow, trapping his deniable sorrow within the palm. He slowly grabbed at the flowing air, clenching the hand into a tight fist. It shivered with a ferocity that grappled at his soul, swallowing his being into a veiled, moonless sea, sucking the very breath from his lungs. He let out shuddering gasps of air, fist trembling from exertion in which stiff-rock tendons refused movement, interconnected to the wispy whispers of the throbbing organ deep within his chest. The heart was an exhausted core, its engine rotting away in the slush murk of his darkness. His lungs were collapsing in a soaked puddle of weep, inhaling and exhaling but not purifying the swelling agony. The hurt penetrated, tendrils slithering into the blood hot organ, wrenching it into the open air from where it was connected to the fiery tubes of essence. He grabbed at his chest, shuddering sobs clenching, ripping at him, and triggering an avalanching barrel of flood from the gaping holes in his head. The leakage from his dark, sorrowful eyes trailed neat lines down his cheeks, colouring skin a darker shade of pain. The hand grabbing at his chest dug deeper at the strained fabric, fingers desperately grabbing at non-existent relief from the hurt, the tendrils swallowing his being into the shifting shadows.

He closed his eyes as the tears drowned him.