She is sitting next to the window,
Rain pouring. 
She was cold,
And he is the warmth.

Her eyes reflect,
The droplets, outside.
Soon become real,
Falling from the inside.

She promised she wouldn't cry.
She didn't when she found him on the ground,
She didn't at the sound of the deafening beep,
She didn't when they lowered him to his grave.

But she guessed,
She held it for too long.
Was it okay?
She can't stop.

She remembers,
When he held her hand,
Wrapped his arms around her,
Kissed Her.
Now she needs that,
To stop hurting.

When she was with him,
She felt contented,
Safe,
Warm.

Why is it,
That when she need him the most,
He disappears,
Forever?

His demise,
She's Pensive, about.
Profusion of questions,
Asking the stated obvious.

If he ever thought she hated him,
Think again.
Look who's crying now.

He is the bones in her body,
The muscle,
Her heart.
She can't live without him.

So, that means she's dead.
 
He's no longer here.
What's the point of living,
If she can't stand up?
If she can't breath?

She knows he isn't coming back,
So she thought it over.
She's got nothing here anymore,
Got nothing to live for.

So she takes the gun,
Placed it to her temple.
So she can be with him know,
They'll be together forever.

“I love you,” she whispers.



And there, stood the grave, right next to his, it was marked:

Anna Stones
1994-2014
Suicide
Depression of Love