It's still not enough.
I've spent this whole time trying to kill you. Now you lie dying in my arms, but I feel strangely hollow. I thought that this was what I wanted. I thought that this was what I had to do. You're so beautiful, even in death – so beautiful it hurts. I should be glad that you'll be out of my life. I should be glad that I won't be messed up any more, glad that I'll never have to see that mocking smile or cruel gaze again.
But all I see is rain.