Nights in White Satin
Inspired by "Nights in White Satin" by The Moody Blues.
I've never tried writing a songfic before, so this is my first. Of course, I'd love to hear from you, guys, what you think. If it should stay with this one, then I won't bother sharing any more with you. ;)
Anyway: I hope you like it.
And there he sat. Listlessly slouched in his chair, one arm resting on the top of his desk. Staring vacantly at his Remington.
Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
It was over. Irrevocably over and done with. Chapter closed. Story of his life. Love-life. Or what fragments there remained of it.
His gaze travelled to the little cardboard box in which he kept his unsent letters. Declarations of love he never shared. Never knew how to share them with the only person for whom they were meant.
Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before.
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore.
Her eyes… Miss them? How could he? Even at night, in the dark, lying cold and alone in his bed, those eyes would find him. Haunt him. Always be there. Just like in his waking hours.
'Cos I love you, yes I love you, oh how I love you.
Oh how he could've cried out his love for her… But he never did. Words always failed him. His eyes were telling, but she wouldn't see. Her own were everywhere except meeting his.
Gazing at people, some hand in hand,
Just what I'm going through they can't understand.
The other day, he was sitting on his favorite bench in Willard Park, gazing out at the Anacostia. Watching people walking by, never sparing him a moment's glance. Only eyes to the ones they loved. As if there was no other world.
Some try to tell me, thoughts they cannot defend,
Just what you want to be, you will be in the end.
His friends and coworkers… Come to think of it… Did he have any other friends than those he closely worked with? Where had his friends from his college days gone? What happened to Matt, Nick and Paul?
Anyway, what did they know? How could they understand what he was going through? In what way could they help him? What use were their meaningless words of advice?
Maybe it was all for the best. Maybe he just wasn't meant to be loved by anyone.
The gathering gloom
Watch lights fade
From every room
So here he was still sitting at his desk, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow on the shiny mahogany of his old, vintage desk. One he cherished. In fond memory to his granddad.
He took a deep breath…thinking of the ones they'd shared when they lay side by side...
And another one.
His dull green eyes followed the rays as they faded into the spreading dimness...thinking of their nights together...side by side...
Look back and lament
Another day's useless
As he looked back upon his time with her… Had their love ever stood a chance? To survive others' comments... Never to their faces, but uttered nonetheless? They were each other's opposites. So where had this attraction come from?
What was that again, that Tony'd said? Oh! Yeah! "Yeah, listen kid uh… I don't want to hurt your feelings but you're not exactly her type." Not exactly her type… Not – her –type… But he'd been defiant in his pursuit of capturing her love. A waste of time and a waste of his energy. Tony was right: he never stood a chance.
Wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love
And has none
Still, they saw each other. Gave it a chance. Or so it seemed. The sex was good, albeit in a coffin…like vampires… But there was always this nagging question: where was the passion? Where was the love?
Then…it was over. He had craved for something permanent. He wanted her to be his mate for life. She wasn't ready for this, she'd said in no uncertain terms.
New mother picks up
And suckles her son
Wish they were young
He'd dreamed of a family... His kids…and hers…of course… Both. He'd had visions of the two of them growing old together and reminiscing their youth.
Cold hearted orb
That rules the night
Removes the colours
From our sight
The sun had sunk behind the...horizon? The city's skyline. Blocks and blocks of concrete. The colorless moon had taken the star's place and shone cold light.
He blinked the tears away. His heart felt cold and without life.
Red is gray and
His life had lost color. Bleakness was what remained. What else was there to say? What else held life for him? There was nothing but the dull gray, the cold white and the ever increasing black. Would there ever be another dawn? Bringing color and life to his existence? Would there? Really?
Would there be nights in white satin again, some day?
Was he free?
But we decide
Which is right
Which is an Illusion
~ The End ~