His heart bled, his senses numbed, for the love of his life was vanishing, like the tip of smoke vanishes in the thin air. He was cast on a barren shore, where there was no love, no hope.
He remembered his dream. The dream of finding his love, of mending his heart. The dream of looking into her eyes which looked into his, of caressing those fingers that caressed his. The dream of caring for nothing but her, of wishing nothing for but her. The dream of loving only and only her, as the world around them comes to a standstill, and nothing mattered but the touch of their hands, the warmth of their breaths, the rhythm of their heartbeats and a completeness of their respective halves as the sweet nectar of love filled their lives and turned them into one.
But like every dream, his dream too broke.
It broke with a silent shatter and a cruel laughter. It broke into million pieces, broken and crushed beyond repair, wrenching his heart which still beat with her name, moistening his eyes which still saw her dreams, breaking his body which still remembered her touch and drying up his breath which still longed for her existence.
“Oh God, why did you create love.” he cried, “Why did you create this abomination that fills my heart, that kills me every moment, little by little. And if you did then why did you not make me of steel and stone, immune to the games of this facade called love. Why did you allow me to feel her touch, to look at her face, to fall in love with her? For this love is only a mirage, filling one’s head with images of things that don’t exist, the longings that can never be fulfilled. It is a journey that will never find a shore. So, O God, kill me, for I would rather be a corpse without life than a life without love.”