Maybe if I'd been stronger,
this wouldn't have happened
or couldn't have happened
Maybe my eyes are wrong
Zeno's body is split down the side,
falling apart,
and his body feels half-cold
in my arms,
the only warmth is the blood
Maybe he could be alive,
but the soldier,
he cut him down,
and he said he's, that Zeno's dead
And then Zeno lifts his hand,
presses it against my face,
voice a barely there whisper,
and then he gets up,
and my face clings to his blood,
because I can't stop him
from sacrificing himself for me.