Bittersweet
Your lips meet mine, but I can taste the hesitation, taste the fear, the blankness. And I whisper words of comfort, but it changes nothing – still the hesitation, the fear. And I know you're not thinking about me, about us. You're thinking about your wife and kids, and what this could do to you, to them, if we're discovered. And I really can't blame you.
And even as you return my frantic touches, still the hesitation, the fear. It's understandable, but I have just as much to lose. I may not be married, or have children, but medicine is all I know…
And still, you respond, afraid to turn me away. But it's not fair, and I can't do this to you. This ends tonight.
I pull away, get up, walk out the door, leaving you with a wistful, but slightly relieved look on your face. You love me – I know it, you've said it, you mean it. But you can't do anything about it, and I'm forcing you, and it's not fair. I'll release you tonight.
I go down to the river, pad and pencil in hand, and write my note. I take up my knife, and carefully place the blade against my skin. As I press down, the blood begins to flow. Of course, I know just where to cut to make it fast…
And now…and now I'm gone. And I stand, shake myself, get used to the sight of my own body, lying on the bloodstained grass. I look bad…maybe I should have found a better way. Less messy.
And you appear, and you see me. And you fall to your knees, tears spill from your eyes. And I want to comfort you, touch you, but it's too late. I've made my decision.
And you're crying, holding my lifeless body close, dripping my blood on your clothes. And I watch and I listen – listen to the words you couldn't tell me when I was alive. And it's bittersweet.
And time passes, and I follow you. You go home to your family, and I follow you. I follow for many years, until you're old and gray and stooped. Almost ready for your long, rich life to draw to and end. And I'm waiting. And it's bittersweet.
Because I know that I'll finally have you, but…not the way I wanted. But it's too late now. What's done is done. So I wait.
And soon, my waiting is over. You stand, shake yourself, looking as young as I first met you. And you look at me and gasp. And then you understand.
As you stare at your peaceful, still body, so different from mine, so many years ago, you come to terms. And turn to me. Saying nothing, you offer a hand. I accept. And we're together. But it's so bittersweet.
Do I still love you? I don't know. It's been so long. I sacrificed myself for you, all that time ago. Do you care? Do I care? We'll never know.
And now I have you, now you're mine, forever and always. But it's too late.
And bittersweet.