JK ROWLING OWNS ALL! I OWN NOTHING!

Death.

Just kill me. Let me perish.

Right here.

Right now.

If a life without you is what I'll have to endure, then it's not a life worth living. I've tried to live. Really, I have. The mere fact that I'm still breathing is proof enough of my efforts.

But I'm never going to be the same again. This I've known since the day I realized I loved you, Draco.

I loved you. Heck, who am I fooling? I still love you! But every time I close my eyes, all I see is that final moment, that last flash of green light. And then death. Death, death, death!

I was the reason for your demise. If I had just done what you'd said, to leave and never look back, you wouldn't have died. Voldemort would never have seen through my thoughts. He would never have known that you were the only one I had left, that you were the sole reason for my existence, that you were the one thing that mattered.

If only Voldemort hadn't seen through my eyes, he would never have known that you would be my only weakness.

Now you're gone and no amount of regret will be able to bring you back.

Five years. I've been existing five years.

Draco, you don't know what it's like. This isn't even life anymore. Now I know what it must feel to have a Dementor lift its hood and take away your soul. Maybe this is even worse.

I'm broken, Draco. Torn, ripped, and shattered; and I'm too weak to pick up the pieces.

Do you hear me, Draco? Are you even out there?

Damn this. Damn eternity!

Damn it all, Draco.

I miss you, Draco.

I miss your blond hair, how I used to muss it around each night until it looks like a bird's nest. I miss that omnipresent smirk on your face, the difficulty of turning it into a genuine smile, and the triumph when I finally do. I miss your drawling voice that banters with me day and night, but soothes me with its gentleness until I fall asleep. I miss your hands, the ones I hold and that hold mine, and their fingers that sweep stray strands of hair from my face. I miss your lips, the way they crush against mine when you're starting to lose the argument, but also their softness each time you tell me you love me.

But most of all, I just miss you, if that makes any sense.

Ten years. Draco, is it time to let go?

I know you're never coming back. So why am I holding on?

It's probably because I love you too much. Or maybe because I've never loved you less. Either way, I know one thing: I still love you.

But maybe I'm holding on, Draco, because I know you wouldn't like it if I lost grip. Wouldn't want the Gryffindor princess all weak now, wouldn't we?

Twenty years, and all I feel is numbness.

My senses tell me what to do, but my brain isn't responding.

I can't think. It's too much, too tedious.

But I've held on, haven't I? I went with things until the last moment. Perhaps this is my last moment. But know this, Draco. This moribund body may be close to its end, but my soul lives on. And so does my love.

Goodbye, Draco...

I love you.

I'll see you soon.

AN: Just a drabble. Hahah scroll down. Don't read. -_-