Cracked With Rose Coloured Despair.

Lost, he sits on the floor. The contents of her purse still scattered on the floor amongst the rubble.

He picked up the antique compact mirror from the floor, the cracks stained with her blood.

A single, now lonely tear falls from his cheek on to the glass below, washing with the blood, dripping to the floor below, a solution of rose coloured anguish.

The pain of his loss so great it clouds his memories to the point where he can no longer picture her sweet face.

He breaks down, so alone, so afraid, never to speak to his eternal again.