and there she stands

pretty little dress

black and white, swishy skirt

knowing that they're both almost over:

one. the year

two. her


but why should she care?

she's on top of the fucking world

this is the end, yeah, sure

but it's still her last good day

and even a last good day

is a good day


there is no one by her side

as she stands on the balcony

green eyes bright

contrasting the almost-midnight sky

short hair being tousled in the wind

and her dress flies behind her

and this is the only dress that Hazel will wear this year

and there will be no next year


then the breathlessness starts

this is the end

this is the fucking end

she doesn't waste her breath crying for help

she's going to die

she's going to fall to the ground gasping for air

she's going to die

below her, people counting down from ten

this is the end


it's too late to call for help

and she means to say

'last words are a waste of breath'

but in the midst of the struggle

she can only manage one word

"Gus."


this is the fucking end

and this is not 'okay'