It doesn't matter that you never really liked me.
It doesn't matter that you broke the law more times than I care to remember.
It doesn't matter that you did what you wanted to do, not what everyone else thought was acceptable.
It doesn't hurt that you aren't here any more.
It doesn't hurt that you cannot share this victory.
It doesn't hurt that in a way, you killed yourself.
Or, at least it didn't.
Now it hurts that you aren't here.
It hurts to look at your photograph.
It hurts to be the only one left.
It matters that they want me to do what you should be doing.
It matters that I'm the one who had to collect your body from in front of the cameras.
It matters that I was the only one at your funeral because your only other friend died too that day.
I didn't get to show you how wonderful the world could be.
I didn't get to tell you, "We got him."
I didn't get to hear you voice, your sensually, explicit voice, one last time.
You were exhausted. You were worn down.
They say a light that burns twice as bright burns for half as long. You burnt so brightly in my eyes.
This really is the end.
This is the final chapter in your life.
This is the final thing that matters in mine.
You were an iron fist in a velvet glove.
Desolation, anguish and pain fill my otherwise empty heart.
There is nothing left now.
Nothing left to do and nothing left to say.
If we had been quicker this may never had happened.
If we had only set the date sooner, you could have been ok.
You the "the best dressed second best" but always number one in my eyes.
I loved you.
I still love you.
I will always love you.
I wish you were here.
I wish I could feel your arms around me.
I wish there was something I could do just to bring you back.
I want you back.
I want to feel your supple lips against my skin one last time.
I want to spend one last moment held against your delicate chest.
This is the end.
This is the last time I will think of you.
This is my goodbye.
The End.