how is it she asked, my love, that what I desire so much is selfish?
I understand, I suppose,
but isn't it selfish of you to not let me finally get my escape? how is it wrong of me, that you simply aren't enough, that you in fact,
add to my festering wounds,
how is it selfish, when I was already gone?
your telling me that by not breathing oxygen anymore, that that is when I had left you?
how?
she does not understand.
but wouldn't it be when she no longer cared to wake,
when there was no longer anything left in her to hide her pain,
to hide the scars,
to hide those red slices,
across her pale flesh,
how is it that she does not have the right to let her body decompose,
how is it wrong of her to want that,
when there Is already nothing left inside?
the action of pulling the trigger,
or gulping down all those pills,
or jumping,
is nothing.
because she was already gone.
so, how can you stare into her eyes,
and not see that all it is she had was a pulse?
that the "light" in her eyes,
is just a reflection of the naïve hope you all hold.
of the shade you refused to remove all those years ago.