Boulevard of Broken Dreams

I walk alone, empty buildings, no one around. A violin smashed to bits, a rusty tractor smashed into the side of an old abandoned barn.  I walk alone, along empty streets, past buildings filled with skeletons and cobwebs - things that were never told, smashed cell phones, crumpled apologies, burnt pictures and ropes. 
 I see him.  Leaning against a building with shattered windows, I can feel him drawing me toward him but I do not have the courage to face him.  I keep pushing my feet to drive me forward, but it is as if they refuse to move. 
I walk alone. 
On streets covered in filth, where each of my mistakes have left their own hideous marks on the pavement.  I walk alone, past empty picture frames hanging on dilapidated walls with peeling paint and wallpaper. 

Red. My favorite color heinously laid out on the road as if it were blood. 

I Walk Alone.  Seeing nothing, feeling nothing.  The numbness has taken over my senses, to the point where all I can do is keep walking forward surveying the destruction around me, hoping for something to happen soon.  Anything would be better than this stony silence - I walk alone, past black roses, coffins, and gravestones.  An empty cemetary filled with the ghosts of my past, cold air and a mist so thick you could cut it with a knife.  Only growing more foreboding by the seconds ticking by on a bomb clock in the back of my mind.  The skeletons are walking toward me, growing, preparing to suck away what little sanity I cling to.