A/N- This is just something I wrote late at night, and I have no clue what compelled me to upload it. I think the idea's been done before, but again, I get bored, and fan fictions and poetry are the product of boredom. Yup. It was originally written around Christmas, but I changed it a bit.

I knew that you had become numb to the world. Numb to everything but fear, hate, and pain. So cold, so alone. I can't even imagine how you felt, if you could feel anything.

But what did I feel?

You followed so blindly after your father for all these years. You even told me once that you knew that he felt nothing towards you. Why did you chase him then? All. This. Time. I was always right here. I waited so many times for you to just turn around and see. I tried to pull you from the hell you were spiraling into, but only was burned. The flames had already consumed you. It wasn't until the very end, when I held you close, you own, sickeningly warm blood washing over my arms and clothes, that you realized what you wanted all along. You wanted love.

You'd always say that there was no such thing as unconditional love. That, somewhere along the way "love" would be broken. Shattered. Something you could view from afar, but that turned to dust at your fingertips. You didn't think that anyone could love you, but for once, you were so wrong.

It's been almost a year since you so selfishly took you life. You have it easy now; you're dead. You don't have to feel anything anymore (not that you did when you were alive…) but what about me? I didn't know how deeply I loved you until it was too late. For me, everything happens too late. Words. Actions. Thoughts. Everything. Nothing comes out right until you're not around to hear it.

I remember once that I tried to tell you that I was there for you, only to be lashed out at and pushed away further. Even when you were in a decent mood, you were never particularly kind to me. There were times when you'd drive me to the brink of madness. However, it was those nights when you were alone, awake, crying, asking to some "god" above why this happened to you, that kept me here.

Now, as I kneel next to your grave, I wonder if you were alive…could I change your mind about humanity?

No…I couldn't. If I could, you would still be here. I couldn't make you listen; make you love me.

I can almost see the snow covering you turn red. That crimson shade that reminds me that no one else cared enough to come tend to your grave.

When I look up, the tears freeze to my face. I can almost see you there. Standing. Free. It makes me forget how angry I am at you for leaving me. My legs shake as I stand, ready to run to you, to hold you. Confess to you that on the day you died, so did I . When I blink, you're gone, and I'm plunged into solitude once more. You may be free, but that's what makes me a prisoner.

Your gravestone gets smaller as I walk away, leaving footprints in the snow. Once more, I look back, stopping to see if you're there. To see if this last year's all been a dream. A nightmare.

You're not there.

I loved you, Jizabel. You were too blind to see it though. Perhaps I wasn't clear enough? Until the very end, you thought you were alone. I knew that you weren't.

As I pass people, families on the streets, together, smiling. I feel even more bitter. More hollow. More numb. I miss you.

And even now…I wonder what would have happened if you could have held on. Never letting go. Never saying goodbye.