A Black Soul on White Parchment

He cried black tears, darker than the night. His green eyes would fog into grey as his emotions found their way down his nose, passed his lips and hung from his chin for just a second or two before dropping themselves onto his old faded jeans where they left their grey stain.

He looked as if he could've already cried a puddle into existence, and he would have cried another if he had given himself the chance.

Suddenly standing up with such composer that no one would suspect he had spent the last few hours of his life pouring out the blackness of his heart through those determined eyes, he walked towards the sunrise.
Never had I seen anyone look so agreeable in such a state. So grieved yet so handsome, so unhappy yet so content, so hopeless yet so gentle. Just thinking of his black streaked face causes my own eyes to swell.