He was known for dancing in the rain,
Some called him crazy some called him homeless, others called him hopeless.
Never coming, never going, he stood in the same spot repeating his movements, moving his lips to the exact words everyday of every second of the hour. He was a play waiting to be watched everyday except nothing ever changed but the tears from the rain that rolled off his face.
I stood watching him, a gentle soul lost within itself.
He was a man in love before, a heart that once beat with another. He was a fool for lending his heart out to another, he never thought of the falls he just saw her. She was his ever-after. She brought him nothing but happiness, they were the definition of a love story.
They danced in the rain, their smiles wild, their eyes bright, their bodies united, their souls tangled she was the definition of life, beautiful and misery together. He closed his eyes once in a while imagining her arms in his, the touch of her skin brushing his, a simple thought and her scent lingering onto his clothes, she was a breath of fresh air.
He was a man to be mourned not tormented. He drove himself mad thinking of her, imagining her face caused him grief, he drove himself mad clinging to every inch of her, remembering the shape of her eyes the colour of the sky, the curve of her lips, her hair always tangled in his hands when he pressed his lips to her neck, the shape of her spine under his fingers. She was the reason for his happiness and the death of his past.
A man in love so deeply it drove him mad.
He danced in the rain trying to remember.
Repeating his last words to her.
He danced beautifully, lost in a chaos of mad love.-BBW