The glass tottered on the edge of the table.
Half full, half empty?
I don't know.
But I let it fall.
However full it was,
It's in the floor now
And littered with shards of glass.

Pull the trigger for me,
                                            
                                                        
       ­                                     *I can't do it myself.

If I come off as cold and aloof,
Please don't think that I believe
that I am special,
Perhaps better than the rest.
That is far from truth.
I am only distant.
Because seeing life from a distance
Makes it hurt just a little less.

When I heard the news,
I went to the bathroom
and sobbed until I was sick.

I grabbed my coat and my car keys,
wiped away the tears
And rushed to the hospital.

He looked at me, and croaked,
hey there, lion.
He's always called me his lion.

I started to cry once again,
This is the most I've cried,
Since I stopped feeling.

you idiot, I mutter,
Taking his hand in mine, gently
examining the stark white bandages on his wrist.

I stayed with him,
They didn't make me leave,
And he understood.

I can't live without him.
I told him I needed him
I wanted him.

Every **** word
Meant all it was worth.
He could never leave.

His smile had such a gentle glow,
His eyes shined so softly when he laughed.
Gentle, his touch was a feather,
and he never touched me without asking,
Not even my shoulder or hand.
He understood me, my fears, my pain.
He was my pearl, a beauty in this gritty world.
He's gone and left me
and I don't know what to do.
My pearl has lost it's luster,
The life and the glow faded from him.
It's not too late.
He brought pulled me back from the precipice,
I will bring back his shine.

On the morning of the end, they wove the nooses of rough cord.
Daylight broke cold, the sun did not warm the Earth.

The sky was grey, the sun was dim.
The hoarse whispers of Latin drifted across the barren court yard.
Lined in stone, but for the creaking of the wooden gallows.

The sullen crowd gathers, heavy in their silence.
As they pull the bag from my head, I look blearily for you.
They shove me up the steep steps, I stumble.
The executioner tightens the noose around my neck.

My hands are bound behind me, there's no fighting death.
His grubby hand briefly grabs my face,
He whispers cruel words, intent for them to be the last I shall hear.
The lever is pulled and floor drops away, my last words I whisper,
Come to the gallows, my dear.

**Crack.