Late at night, a small sound is heard.
There is nothing there, yet he cannot shake it;
this feeling.
Insubstantial, ghostly hands guide him,
And without knowing why he is going, suddenly
He knows.
Her chest rises and falls with regular breaths,
The sight a magnet for those cerulean eyes
That are so old on the face of one so young.
A short, sniffling sound escapes her, as a
Name slides past her lips. "Shinichi…"
Like a siren's song, she draws him to her,
Helpless in her grasp.
So badly, he needs her so badly.
To be able to hold her again, to tell her everything,
To just be himself.
Cloudy blue eyes are unveiled, the focus
Off. "Shinichi," she says again, and somewhere,
Deep down, his heart breaks.
The person before her is but a wraith of
Who she knew before, a husk of what
Used to be. A desperate embrace, then it is gone.
He lulls her to sleep with what used to be their song.
Yet still, this feeling remains.
Why?
What is it?
Why must he slowly kill her?
A/N: This just came to me as we were discussing poetry in Language Arts. Now I'm posting this when I should be working during Tech Ed. xP Not exactly my usual fare, as I don't usually do angst. Let me know what you think!
