I remember how you smiled into the air
on that cold Friday night.
And I remember how your smile turned into
a dead grin.

I hope to forget the day I found you.

Everyone loses someone,
but I should have never lost you.

You, my love,
you were the light of my day,
the dark of my night.

Your cold, dead skin,
rotting away.
You should be rotting in my arms.

Oh,
how I remember you holding my hand.
And how you would kiss my lips and I would
float into a daze.

You're gone.
And this is my story.