Hopeless Romantic

Just a crazy draft of a silly idea.

Love is a fat man who drinks too much coffee, he wheezes when he talks.

‘They all fall, sooner or later.’- he said with a sad smile, while sweeping shrivelled hearts from his doorstep. ‘Springtime they bloom, then winter makes walking corpses out of men; who become incapable of love.’

I came across him one September’s day, counting broken promises like the carcasses of kisses.

Love speaks in short sentences, pausing often to sigh.

‘If only they knew how wonderful they were.’-pause, sigh. ‘No one need ever be alone, you know?’

Love coughed with asthmatic lungs, the hand that covered his mouth was rough, and his fingernails were yellow and chipped.

He looked exhausted.