Of Broken Suicide Pacts and Terribly Lonely FightsMature

Probably needs a new title.

Sometimes on those

cold, dark,

winter nights

curled in my bed

and huddled under blankets

 

(safe

from monsters

like a naïve

child)

 

I thought about you

and tried,

in vain,

to ignore the pang

in my chest;

an ache

that could be felt

in my bones.

 

I wept

as I thought of

your stilled heartbeat

and the bright scarlet

of your blood.

 

And I'm sorry –  

so sorry – 

that I wasn't brave enough

to keep our promise;

 

I am sorry

I did not let

the monsters take me

with you.

 

Because now,

I am left

to fight them

alone.

The End

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