Reminiscing At Hell Poem by Cherry Blossom

The day he left her remained vivid in his mind as if the words he never thought he would utter were etched into their conversation.
She asked him if he would die for her, and he responded with unwavering confidence, declaring, 'Even if granted eternal life, I would refuse it, for a life without you is akin to death itself.'
He wasn't accustomed to heavy drinking, but now, everything had changed. Every night, he found solace in a bar, always seated alone at a table meant for two.
The bar provided an escape for his mind and a release for his troubled heart. Amidst the intoxication, he allowed himself to ponder the haunting question: 'Was I the best she ever had? '
Strangers would occasionally approach his table, sharing a drink and encouraging him to smile despite his sadness.
But since that fateful moment, he couldn't free his mind from the memory of her dress's laces entwining around his neck.
During these moments, he would question, 'How do I survive this suffocation at the hands of a goddess? '
Every time he remembered her at 3 A.M., her eyes captivated him. Even if cursed by Medusa's gaze, he would still gaze upon her, allowing his petrified form to behold eternal perfection. These recollections stirred his memory of his declaration, and within those contemplative lines, he recalled his own words: 'Do you believe your eyes hold no significance? Those eyes shall forever capture my gaze, and with each glance you cast, the stars shall avert their gaze, for your eyes could blind the heavens themselves.'
He deemed Orpheus foolish for seeking a second chance from Hades, yet he found himself doing the same in the past.
He longed for her laughter, which he considered the ultimate reward—a pure expression of joy that prompted the celestial choir to sing, acknowledging that their harmonious symphony paled in comparison.
Recalling the times, she experienced sorrow, he despised every moment of her pain, as each tear shed merged with the ocean.
He would willingly surrender his last breath, submerging himself in the depths, in search of solace for the anguish he felt with every tear that flowed from her captivating eyes. As he lay in bed, lost in reminiscence, he felt engulfed in the flames of his hell. His mind forcefully replayed the memories he yearned to forget, leaving him powerless to halt their relentless torment.
'Hell is real, and it materializes at 3 A.M., rendering one powerless to cease the relentless onslaught of past reflections.'