wolfheulen
The time I cried for hours straight, begging and pleading and wishing and hoping and hysterical. You sighed and didn't want to be there but you didn't leave. I loved you even more for that, even though you were breaking my heart the entire time. I can't even begin to count the tears I cried that day, how awful I must have looked, all red and puffy and gross. But you stayed. Through my hysteria.
Trauma. Blood everywhere, leaking into the ground, mirroring the sky.
"I don't think we can do this, it's too severe," the EMTs say, and the part of you that's floating around your body smiles and claps like a child.
I mean, it's only your body that dies.
The place where all my memories are kept, where the books that make me go insane rest. I think of yours more than I think of mine, because yours was filled with so many other things, things I wish I owned, and books I wish I'd read. But I never got the chance. I wish I had.