Cars crashing,
seatbelts couldn't hold them back
as they flew through the windshield,
waterfalls of glass
cascaded over the smashed front,
the ground sparkled coldly,
red glinted off of the glass
that was embedded into the flying figures.
Bodies hit the ground,
they made a hollow sound,
blood pooled out around them.
They were young souls,
gasping out their final breaths,
their chests heaved as they screamed.
People gathered around
crying hopeless tears.
Nothing could change their fate.
As the ambulance finally came,
and the cars were towed away,
only one thing remained,
it was the young blood that stained
the grey pavement.
No tears,
and no rain,
could ever wash away this blood
that now tinted the hearts of the people who saw
just exactly how violent it is
to die young.

Some people think
So much about dying
They forget in their lives
They are living

Some people live
So much for their lives
They forget, in time,
They’re going to die.

Some people end the lives of others,
Symbolically or literally
Some, the former initially,
And the latter not much after.

Some people decide to end the lives
Of their flesh, blood, the essence of themselves...
Some say that is the only sin
An all-loving God could never forgive.

Some die before they live.
Some half-way through existence
Most live before they die
But some die to live again, they try

Some die as children, untouched by shame or corruption
Some die with children, hearts swollen with the love their lives taught them
Some pass in their sleep, life with only regrets
Or not a trace of them at all

I suppose I cannot say.
But,
Answer this, if I may ask
When the time comes,

In your place to bask,
When you are about to die
Can you be sure that, once,
You had truly been alive?

I wonder at the times
I wonder in my dreams
I wonder where we are going?
I wonder why I scream

I hurry through the day
I hurry in the night
I hurry by the clouds
I hurry darkened sight

I look into my future
I look into my prime
I look into amazement
I look into my crime

I die a lonely life
I die quite alone
I die with one last tear
I die without a moan

She used my name when she spoke to me. Like we would be in the middle of talking about the weather and she would deliberately finish a sentence about the impending rainstorm with my name and all of a sudden this innocent conversation reached a level of intimacy I had only experienced in bed with another person.
It was exhilarating, feeling your name in the mouth of someone like that.
With just the way she forms your name with her lips she could make you want to hold hands and waste away Friday nights in the most cliché romcom way. Every moment was full, every moment was exciting, and every ******* moment was completely and fatally exhausting.

-bcg (excerpt from the book I’ll never write)

I heed not that my earthly lot
  Hath—little of Earth in it—
That years of love have been forgot
  In the hatred of a minute:—
I mourn not that the desolate
  Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
  Who am a passer-by.