You deserve something so much grander than Earth
You deserve stars delivered at your doorstep
The moon planted in your yard
You deserve the universe
And one day,
I'm gonna be the one to give it to you
I promise you the universe
I promise you stars
I promise you the moon
Just stay with me a little longer

The ghost of your touch
Still burns on my skin
Though you are not here anymore,
The feeling of you
Will stay forever

When you mourn
You mourn with the moon
Because she too
Weeps at the tragedy

The moon was still visible, but hard to see behind cotton candy skies. The moon rested just above the lake a mile or so out. Twilight was always gorgeous out here.

My target was one of the only ones who left their window open with this windy weather. But it’d make it easier to sneak in.

God, when did I start calling him my target? I hate this job.

I climbed through the window quietly.

His room was dark, all black and gray except for the curtains, which were white. The curtains were going crazy in the breeze, while everything else sat still. What a dull room.  

I sighed and took out my gun; a simple pistol with a suppressor attached. I took a deep breath and silently crept towards his bed.

He looked so peaceful, sleeping. I took another deep breath and crossed the room to the bed. I looked at his sleeping body sadly. This was the last time I’d ever get to see him again. I hate this job.

I climbed on the bed, quickly putting my gun to his head and my hand to his throat before he could react. He woke up and looked at me, shocked. God, this hurts. I hate this job.

He calmed down a little. Is he not afraid to die? Or did he think I was too weak to shoot someone I was so close to? He looked at me and reached his hand out to my face. His voice was raspy, and his throat moved on the inside of my palm. It felt kinda gross, but I didn’t move my hand.

“You-“ He put his hand on my arm softly. It didn’t hurt. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. It just made it harder knowing I had to hurt him. I hate this job.

He moved his hand to my face and caressed my cheek. My ****** expression shifted to a much softer one, but not so much he could tell. It’s hard to tell when I’m happy because of my eyes, which always made me look mad. ​Evil.

Nightmare eyes, I always thought. He always said I was beautiful no matter what, but I hated them. I didn’t really mind when he called me such feminine things either, until all the guys in my school started calling me girly. Even then, I didn’t say anything to him. I let him call me whatever because it was him.

My mom used to say my eyes always made me look evil. Blonde hair and red eyes. The guys in my school always made fun of me for it. But he never did. 'Guys leave him alone,' he told them, 'he can’t control it, just like you can’t control how small your brain is.'

“Last words. Make em’ count.” I ordered. A tear fell slowly down his cheek and was absorbed by the pillow.  

He smiled weakly. I loosened my grip around his neck but didn’t let go. He rested his palm against my cheek.

“You’re beautiful.” He said.

“Please!! Just a little more time!!”

“One year. That was the deal.” He held his hand out.

I took one look back at the life I had made in this extra time I was granted. I turned back to Death, face full of tears. I sighed.

And turned back to him.

I took his hand.

I knocked on the door lightly. I obviously got no answer… I don’t know what I was expecting. I opened the door and squeezed in, shutting it just as quickly and quietly as I had opened it.

The room felt duller than usual… I couldn’t tell if it was because of the weather, the boring colors, or the aura of a patient waiting to die.

He was looking out the window. The weather was cold, and the skyline had been invisible, thanks to fog. It was rainy. People ran through the storm to their cars below us. The windows had been covered in rain, and all you could here was the steady beat of the heart monitor and the rain pouring outside. It smelled like hand sanitizer and lies. A shiver crawled down my spine just being in here for 5 seconds… I wonder what it has done to him for 5 months.

I hadn’t seen him for years. I wasn’t exactly ready for this confrontation, but it had to happen. I knew that. If I ever wanted to move on in my life, I had to see him again.

His brown hair was messy and fell over his eyes. The light from outside had a soft gray glow reflecting onto his pale face, making him look ghostlier than ever. His skinny, underweight arms were resting on his stomach, and his green eyes had a dark tint on the skin under them.

Seeing him like this just made it more obvious why he was here in the first place. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, he didn’t drink… he made himself sick. His bony fingers tapped on his hand anxiously. He turned to face me. His face looked dreary, and he looked sad in general. I gulped and widened my eyes, not ready for his icy stare when he looked like this.

He sighed and I relaxed my face, calmed down as soon as he wasn’t staring at me.

“Why are you here?” he asked me.

My alarm clock mocks me with flashing lights
"Wake up! Wake up!" Is all it cries.
I try my best, to no avail
The best I've done is stay out of jail.

Breathe, you can do this
But being trapped under these blankets... it's bliss.
Get up, one step at a time
God, will the alarm stop that chime?!

I'm frustrated already, it's 10 in the morning.
My brain keeps shouting some false warning
Nothing will go wrong, so what's the issue?
I'm gonna cry, but I can't get up and grab a tissue.

My alarm clock yells
Those annoying bells
A simple task
JUST GET OUT OF BED




I'm going back to sleep.