“Spare themselves of this,” she says,
while refusing to spare herself at all
unaware that her escape
will become someone else’s worst moment.
Death isn’t final.
Not really.
It ends for you,
but for those who stay, it begins.
For the ones who watch,
who scream into stillness,
who cling to a body cooling beneath their hands,
believing hope might be loud enough
to pull you back.
It lingers.
It always lingers.
I wanted more than life ever offered me
more than survival,
more than breathing without meaning.
And you?
You only wanted tomorrow.
~ Time of death: 5:40 a.m. ~