Never Going To Be Able To Kiss You Again
The wind blew against his swan like neck. Giving him chills against his flesh. As he walked slowly behind the black cab, which was driving his beloved to rest. All he felt was devastation as his eyes looked upon the coffin, in which his beloved laid. He felt a waterfall load of tears, steaming down his face. He looked behind himself, to see mixed emotions from a handful of people. People not knowing whether to laugh or cry. However, he did not have the feeling to care. He faced front again. His legs carried him all the way to church, in which he and five other men had to carry the coffin into the church. The he being Steven Hay.
They lifted the coffin from the car. All walking at the same speed, as they walked towards where it will be placed. The coffin was a light brown wooden make. On top of it, was a sliver placement reading Brendan Brady. Died: 1979-2013. That broke Steven into a thousand pieces. They placed the coffin onto the table; it will soon be six feet under. All the men but Steven sat on the chairs, waiting for the surreal service to start. He placed his hand onto the coffin, breaking down in front of everybody. He looked down at the coffin, not wanting to bury him. Brendan is in there, dead or alive. The man, who he touched, kissed, consoled and loved was in there. He whimpered, his cries becoming louder.
He heard footsteps coming towards him. He felt a hand on his shoulder. A friendly female voice, he followed sitting besides her. His eyes still fixated on the coffin, he could not look away. As the service began, the vicar talking about something Steven dose not care or believe in. All he could think of was not being able to hear Brendan say I love you ever again, or not being able to kiss his fragile lips. More sounds of his cries were released; the woman called Amy Barnes giving him looks of pure sympathy. As he fell into her arms, his cries become muffled as he buries his face in her jacket.
She pulls him in closer, as she hates seeing him like this. She never saw him in this state before though. Never saw him so devastated. So broken, almost as if he is unfixable He released from her grip, after ten minutes of just being consoled. This was not enough however, no matter what she says or dose it will not take the pain away. After the vicar made his speech, the service inside ended. It was time for the thing Steven dreaded, the burying of the coffin.
He kept shaking his head repeatedly, as the coffin was placed down on the square six feet under hole. Mud filling up the hole. Steven broke down once again. It was too much to take in. All he wanted was for Brendan to hold him in his arms again. Knowing that was never going to come true was just unbelievable for him to take in.
A couple of long hours later, the gravestone was there. Brendan Brady. Son, Father, Brother and Lover. 1979-2013. Steven sat on the grass, which surrounded it. He moved up towards it, putting his head on the mud that Brendan was buried underneath.
He put his hand on the patch of mud also, it was raining. He had to hold himself, as he laid their freezing. He started whimpering. Not wanting to leave, he felt like Brendan would be alone if he just left him there, in the graveyard. Alone.