That Man

"Sometimes I think the sad songs were written for me..."

He was sitting in his room alone and facing the white canvas again. His hand busy dancing on the canvas with a brush, a palate of colour mixtures on the other. He could spend hours, maybe even days, doing all this. The paint had always been his medium of expressing his emotions. Whether were they pain, regret, disappointment, the paint always made him happy.

"We have to stop seeing each other."

He could still see those deep, sad eyes looking into his. They pierced into him like needles. They tore into his heart like a knife. That beautiful face that always looked pale, he secretly wished he could make them glow. His hand danced gracefully on the stained canvas. Stained with the colours of his heart. After a few strokes of his brush, a picture of those sad eyes were looking at him from the canvas. The same deep eyes. 

"You have always been my laughter machine. You never failed to make me happy."

There was a smile on her lips. A very painful smile. It wasn't painful because she did not mean it, it was painful because it was the truth. A painful truth for him as well. He still remembered how he felt as if his heart was beating very slowly. And as slow as the rhythm of his heart, his hand slowly painted those smile on the canvas. The smile he wished would never disappear.

"My parents want me to marry him."

            "Do you love him?"


    "Then, who do you really love?"

He still remembered the tears rolling down her cheeks and onto the ground below. He didn't like to see her that way, but there was nothing he could do. His heart was broken to pieces as well. He wanted to break down, but he didn't want her to see his tears. However, there, in front of the canvas, he didn't mind to shed his manly tears. Even though the beautiful picture forming in front of him was the same replica of that woman in his memories, he didn't mind if he cried now. She would never know his pain. Those eyes, although they were looking straight into him, they could not see his despair.

"You...I love you..."

He put down the brush and palate onto a small table underneath his work place and stood up. A portrait of a beautiful young lady was beaming towards him. She wore the most beautiful smile ever, and her eyes glowered with happiness. He couldn't help but smile back as he wiped the tears off his cheek. He loved to draw her that way. He loved to make the pale face look as bright as the sunshine. If he could, he would make it stay. 


But he was not for her. She was never his. 

"I hope you'll take care of yourself. Don't forget to smile when I'm gone. One day if you look back, I hope you remember me as that man who used to paint you with happiness."

Her smile will always be his.

*Entah kenapa dan dari mana :) *