Twelve times, have the wood-framed clock ring. The sound of it breaks through the silent night of an empty man. It provides a short but sole companionship, as the darkness of the night substitutes his heartbeat.
The formation of every word is made obvious by the tick and the tock. He is filled with thoughts...but none recognizable by his conscious. He is stuffed with emotions...but neither can co-exist with another logically; he feels pain, worry, hope, and disappointment but at the same time, emptiness within.
The separation wraps every message with thorns. Yet, he couldn't stop grabbing hold on the stem of the dying rose. He prays for and believe in the revival of the rose. It draws blood but it's nothing compared to the feeling of hers, who has spent almost one and a half year, growing the rose together with him.
It's his lacking of compassion that have rendered the rose to its current state. He knows he deserves no further chances but the foolish him within, hopes for it to grow back and able to let him cherishes it more than before.
"Sweety, please stop your tears and take good care of yourself. It must have been very hurtful for you. Sorry for bringing it to you. So please be strong. Have a good rest. I will always pray for your well-being and happiness."
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