The loss of young Luna left the biggest impact on Ryan.
'I did not love her enough,' he kept repeating to himself.
From then on, everything he did was done dully and bleakly.
His love to do anything inspirational died as he came to realize that Luna was his inspiration.
Ryan slept for hours. He would drug himself to sleep.
He forced a dream. So badly, he wanted to see precious Luna again.
But when he slept, he could not dream.
There was nothing to see in his slumber.
Tired from the drunken nights and his empty dreams, he started to paint again.
His art works were sold for thousands of dollars.
Everyone stood up from their seats and applauded as Ryan walked in his gallery.
He had not bothered to comb his hair and he wore the suit he had put on during Luna's funeral.
Ryan never understood why everyone had loved his works so much.
Because all he ever painted were her eyes.
---
Edited and continued from here.
I quite like this one. Not sure why.
Luna and Ryan are fictional characters I've made up a few years back.
