Drip. Drip. Drip.
I stand, and I watch. Everything around me is a blur, everything fades from my vision. I gaze in silence at your moonlight pale face. A face marked by death. My limbs move mechanically with the other people as they carry you to your grave. The rain falls all around me, molding my clothes to my form, gluing them and my hair to my skin. I have already looked at your face for the last time. Already touched your angel-soft skin, knowing I would never again feel its likeness. I hide my curse behind a mask, a mask of loose fabric and shadow. A curse you adored and admired, knowing that without you with me, I am nothing. I watch as they lower you beyond my reach, and I remember.
I remember when I first saw your smiling face and head your melodic laugh. Even now I hear your voice, calling out to me. I feel your touch upon my skin, the remembrance sending shivers down my spine. I remember your warm breath, smelling faintly of spices, and mint with just a hint of honey. How it tickled my chin, and caressed my neck. I never knew just how much I missed those amber eyes. The ones that blazed like heated coals yet glowed as soft as velvet. It irks me that I forgot how much you meant to me. I have forgotten, caught in my own selfish longing for your presence.
Your smile was like a blanket in the cold, the pencil that drew my path; a drug that made me weak in the knees with my cravings for you. I clung to your every word like nothing could be better in the world. You entranced me with your kisses, your endless gaze hypnotizing me to no end. Your rage amused me, your innocence aroused me. Your sadness worried me, your determination encouraged me. What am I without you? What have I left? Why do I still walk, while you lay dead, encased in a permanent darkness? I think, and I realize: just how cruel this world is.
Around me, your family and friends weep. But they do not weep for the same reasons as I, no. They weep because you were young, did not deserve to cease to exist in this world, not because they really knew you. It troubles me that they would think such things, for they are written across their faces like words on the page of a book. You were my comfort, and I wonder, what exactly did I do to make you like me? It's impossible to think that anyone couldn't at least like you; you were too wonderful in every way. I remember how they spoke of you, jealous of your very being, your essence. I almost smiled in this bleak setting at the memory.
It's strange to think this is all gone, faded like the sun at dusk. Before I couldn't imagine a like without you, now it's hard to remember you there, walking beside me. Gone. That word haunts my mind. It won't leave me alone. It torments me without mercy. It laughs at me. Mocks me. What is this place, where 'shun' is the only word to describe outsiders, or people unfamiliar to our memory? My thoughts are distorted by my misery, my heart shrouded with sorrow; my being clouded with remorse. This was the end. You left me without a goodbye, the only memory I have of your face now, is one of a cold, listless and lifeless face.
I stand and I watch. Those around me are a blur. The rain stains my cheeks, and I cry. I cry in that lonely rain and I remember while the tears fall down my face with the rain, invisible to all who see. I wonder, why you had to die, and I begin to hate that hot prickling in the back of my eyes…
While I stand and cry those invisible tears.
Please, please review; I really want feedback on this one xD