beautifully broken

He was a beautiful mess. He seemed to look his best when he was fallin apart. And as he stumbled toward me, his eyes fixated straight ahead, I knew he had stolen my heart. Drawn in by the words he never said, the unspoken passion was there from the start. He could make me feel the sunlight when there wasn't a trace of blue in the sky. I didn't want to sleep at night because he was a waking dream that could never die. Such an organized disaster all scattered everywhere, his eyes were full of despair but his old soul was true. So genuinely ill-prepared for all the simple things he never knew. He wears his façade with elegance, so scared of something real. It's safe to say he's confident when everything is concealed. He can't be aware of his misery if he never has to feel. A walking broken tragedy, so vulnerable in his sadness, there was some sort of sick temptation in all those fucked up nights of madness. He slowly started to lose control, and I reached out my trembling hand. I said ((I cannot save you, as you know, but I promise I can understand)). He said he never expected life itself to ravage all his plans. We all wish for things to work out, but in the end they simply never can. He learned to fake a smile and pretend that it all was fine. I think he even fooled himself because he couldn't draw the line. They say everything heals with time but that just isn't true. Time can carve into a wound and make it sting like it was new. It just gets deeper and deeper until it becomes a part of you. He carried an emotional burden and it was starting to wear him down. He said the same thing that sucked him in was what made him want to leave this town. Trapped into being free isn't as invigorating as it sounds. If I could convince him that there was a chance and something better stood ahead, I would. I'd say all the hopeful words I meant, and I'd believe it all if I only could. I'd tell him that everything would be okay, but in this day all words and feelings do no good.