Dark in the room covered mess that appeared there recently. He was lying in bed, curled up in a little ball and didn't have enough energy to cry more. He wasn't moving his red, swollen eyes from photo that was standing on desk, but in fact darkness made impossible to see it clearly. In dead silence only faintly, hoarse voice could be heard, whispering the last poem of that person.
"I won't argue with you,
I'm never right anyway.
It seems that
we are paired wrong.
But the worst thing
is your disappointment.
When I forgot to tell you
that I'm in love.
So better kill me,
throw out from memory.
Better leave, let me leave.
Better forget, let me forget.
Better give me another chance.
I know you need something that
I won't ever be able to give you.
Not because I don't want,
but because I don't have it myself.
And the worst thing
is your disappointment.
When I forgot to tell you
that I'm in love.
So better kill me,
throw out from memory.
Better leave, let me leave.
Better forget, let me forget.
Better give me another chance."
At the last sentence, his body started to tremble again and the new wave of tears appeared.
"I'll give you chance, so please come back."