In a dark room lit only by a candle, a man with long, dark hair sat at a desk. His grown eyes were narrowed in concentration as he pored over a piece of paper with a fountain pen.
"Aha! I got it! The name shall be "Final Goodbye"!" the man exclaimed happily. He leaned down to begin the poem for his secret lover.
A week later...
The same man walked to the funeral procession dressed in all white*. The others, all dressed in black, wondered why the man was dressed like that at a funeral. Quite rude, as most of the public agreed. The man in white leaned over the body in the coffin, dark hair tickling the body's face. He placed a rose directly over the no longer beating heart.
Red are these roses,
The dead body was one a man named Ivan Braginski, who's was killed in a gunfight. Ivan had platinum blonde hair, and always wore a scarf. He was tall and strong, and no one, least of all the mourner in white, thought he would die like this. Ivan's eyes were a peculiar amethyst color.
Violet are you eyes,
He had been vibrant in life, always smiling. He may had been somewhat misunderstood, but one man had always loved him. Now, as Yao stood before the body, he remembered the happy times they spent together. His many regrets centered around the fact that he was never able to tell Ivan his true feelings.
Flowers bloom so vividly, brightly before they die.
To tell the truth, Yao had always loved Ivan, ever since they had met that one fateful day. But, his government refused to allow their relationship, although Ivan's government was completely fine with the arrangement. Yao had no idea that even nations could be killed if they became human enough.
Our love has known no bounds,
Yao stepped back from the coffin of his love. The workers at the graveyard shut the coffin quietly, because Yao was the last to say his final goodbye.
And so...
The sound of the coffin closing was like a gunshot to Yao. Moisture spilled over his eyes. He wiped it away and looked at the sky as if seeing if it had suddenly begin raining. He would never see Ivan again.
Let death be our final goodbye.
Wow, I'm so depressing... this was originally a love poem from someone to Russia, it's not specified who (I wrote it and I don't know lol). I just had this inspiration, so I began it at 6 this morning and got scolded for my troubles :\ . oh well... I made one from Russia's POV as well, I might post it as just a poem.
