A epitaph for love

A descriptive paragraph.

Words... 
There are none, no words to aptly describe how every lightened hope this man fostered turned into a sullen and dank pigsty with the realization that every attempt he mustered, every rally cry from that single rank of himself fell like dross lead in the soddened grass in which that still very single man stood. The first couple of times he could have the faith to shake off the debris of defeat, but then the next attempts at failing start to drive the nail into the single man's feet: the man doesn't want to try anymore, "Never again, I will not succeed if I did." But alas the fate of time must have its martyr, and so ebbs the man's memory away, so again his heart is lightened by some fair eyes and heart. That isn't his heart, though, not that beautiful one, meant for someone more deserving that one is, one with less blood in his steps, less scars on his hands, and smiles when he is being beaten, a true man's man. "Well," he says to himself,"I'm half a fool for thinking, and a greater one at that for acting. Let him have that smile, let him possess the spring, let him be spared the pain of always wanting to give your love away but finding no one to receive it. Let me bless him so that I may perhaps find favor with the gods for being so selfless, for now only the very act and intervention of heaven will derail the destiny that my life so far points to." And so he stands still, not looking forward nor back, but only up.

-- Some book bound to be written