Have you ever stared death straight on, in the eyes of the one whom you loved?                        

I cannot steal her anguish or her scars. I can't stop the blood from flowing.

How do you continue to breathe when your angel has been ****** to hell?

What if these shaky hands cannot grasp all that she contains?

Flowers aren't often meant to bloom in winter; you did nothing wrong.

Selfishness overcomes compassion and obsession is mistaken for love.

Death makes no man wait, and I can't stop the aim of a trigger that has already been pulled.