Been writing

He sat and stared absentmindedly through the foggy window as the slow gentle snow fell. The snow as light as it was glistened in the fading twilight. In his hand the glass of bourbon half empty over ice. She was gone, there was little to be done about it, buried in the trappings of her new life and now she had become dead to him. So often had he mourned convulsing on the floor that he had become cramped but in many ways numb. Where there had once been light, joy and happiness in his eyes he found only the blank stare of a dead man; in many ways he felt dead anyway. He hadn't meant for it to happen, it all started so simply and easily. Boy meets girl, boy remembers all he can about the two of them, everywhere they had gone for dates, all they had done, everything he could so that he could never be accused of not remembering the significance of the 15th of may or the 3rd of April. He had tried to be everything to her, friend, protector, confidant. But when it was over he was accused of something new, being creepy. He still wanted to help her, to be there for her, he thought that he loved her still. So he did everything in his power to convince her that despite the part they had taken he was still the one she should be with. The one she should love. He didn't mean to make it creepy, it just came out that way. and now he didn't know where to turn, now that his world had come crashing down. In many ways he didn't feel it was all his fault. She had asked him "do you love me more or less than you did yesterday" and at one time she had asked him not to go falling in love with anyone else while she was gone on vacation. He had done everything he could to be faithful, and now, now even though she had been seeing other people for months she had always come back home to him. Now she had not come home and even the sound of songs made him teary eyed and things which were not theirs but had some relation to someone she had dated after they were separated gave him pains in the chest.