Faded

I found him on a cloudy day; lost, brows pulled deep down over his eyes. Creating dark shadows over his colourles iris's. He clutches the pages. Words scribbled over words creating a world he would much rather be a part of. The lifeless colour of his skin, drowning in a heavy black coat, keeping everything but the rain out. He is less years then what his face shows. Lines etched on his skin tell a different story. Wind swept hair, all tangled and course from the salted ocean breeze. He lives there maybe. On the dark days when only the locals step out to brave the weather. No one sees him, and if they do, not one glance or friendly face greets his empty gaze.