I'm not staying with him for the pain. It's what he says in his sleep. When he's moaning, he whispers. The cry he utters with a face so full of sorrow.
"So..."
"...rry..."
"I'm sorry..."
It makes me sad that no one hears his apology.
People don't exist without the past, I know. But the past isn't alive. It's you who's alive.