He leaned against the mirror and studied his eyes that were reflected back at him.
Since when had he become so unsure of what was real and what was not? When had he become so immersed in the happiness of another, and forgot about his own?
He was so sick, so tired and slowly he was coming to realise how fake this love truly is.
He tried so hard to pretend to be strong when really he was anything but and he wished that his weaknesses could be hidden - free from the eyes of the one he had loved.
In a dream he had grown a flower that will never bloom. Its petals wilting and crumbling to dust. The dream shattered and rained down on the shredded pieces of his heart.
He wanted nothing more than to be a good man, to give her the whole world and he changed everything about himself.
He pulled away from the mirror and stared at his reflection. Dissatisfaction bubbled in his stomach and slithered until it reached his chest.
Bile then rose up in his throat and burned the last shred of hope he had.
"Who the heck are you?" He spat at his reflection. The question was left unanswered.
He was nothing more than a doll for her to dress up and play with to her heart's desire.
Every part of himself erased.
Yet, she said he had changed, that he isn't the one she once liked. Who's fault is that?
I'm the one who is blind. The one who believed every pretty lie that left your lips.
What is this?
I see nothing but Fake Love