he's the saddest story i ever read, a walking tragedy written with spilled blood of innocence on pages of stolen youth.
he holds forgotten chapters of words that he never got to speak, a novel that holds his painful secrets like a requiem. he knows death intimately as his first love and has bruised knuckles and empty hands to show for hardships.
but still, he smiles. even when the aroma of perfume lingers and the ring she never got to wear still shines.