"There is no story worth telling"
He said
After I asked him of his loss
The man seemed blank,
Empty,
Without regards to his obvious depression
In a denial that was building,
Block by block,
A wall around the sadness he hid inside
His stoic exterior sent shivers up my spine
Attributing to a lurking fear
That perhaps this man had broken,
Snapped,
And maybe just one slip of tongue
Would trigger an eruption
Of repressed emotion
Itching to find an expression
Yet he remained cool like ice
That forms in the nights of winter
With eyes burning hotter
Than the streets in summer
As he repeated his mantra
"There is no story worth telling"
At which point he walked off the roof
Taking his loss with him