He thudded to the ground, on all fours staring into the dirt. Don't leave me, he pled, please don't leave me. The footsteps shuffling around, the dust being kicked around, all irrelevant to the tears soaking the dirt, instantly evaporating. As if pain had never meant anything. The world spun with a new force, like tossing an opponent to the wall, he being the opponent. The dirt became a solid refuge, unchanging no matter how many tears dumped into it, it didn't smile, it didn't frown, and it surely never left. What the hell was this? A new form of torturous emotion inflicting upon his soul because of three simple little words. It was all useless, begging, crying, forgetting. The incantation had been spoken. He was trapped in a thousand ways, words spinning around him like a protective orb, but instead of the graceful healing power, he was beaten further.

Don't just walk away! He was deaf, to even himself, the thoughts screamed in silence, and nothing could purify the sins. Don't leaveā€¦ He had missed them, fallen straight through like they were a ghost, nothing more than a vision, a hologram of something not yet in existence. But they had existed, in his dreams, in his world, but like a pixilated image, they were falling apart slowly. Dying fading, they all were. The darkened abyss they called night quickly descended, and soon he was blind, unable to see anything but the florescent glowing of the one who used to be. He slumped to the side, giving up on breathing, he wasn't receiving oxygen anyway. The wind caressed him in sorrow; he winced from the icy touches, surprised that he still managed to feel.

The thing was, they had been dead. For years, this fragment of a memory, this feeling, this light. It had all died, so long ago. In the darkness it still attacked, in his soul, his mind. A war game with the planet. I can't have you. Everything faded, slipping into a hollowed cabinet locked away like an animal. The planet faded to ashes, and he floated to the core, waiting for that familiar embrace to wrench him from his mourning. The dirt sealed his coffin, allowing him to rest in its arms; restlessly he lay, frozen in space.

It finally sealed him away, and he grinned, dropping the bottle, letting it explode like the rest. The end, he leaned back, it was all for you. The cycle repeats.