---And Dying Is Done Alone---

Sorrow

And as his hand made the last motion,

The sharp razor cutting horizontally,

Against the already deep vertical lacerations.

His hand only trembled slightly,

As he licked the razor clean.

Through the luminescence of the 3 candles burning,

We sat across from one another,

In a clearing in the woods I found.

Through the dull and wavering light,

I swear I could see his eyes light up,

And a slight, almost cartoon-like smile form upon his lips.

As we waited for the blood to drain,

The pain was gone, replaced by the feeling of being numb.

And the damp feeling of a blood soaked dress,

No longer sticking, but plastered to my body.

We didn't hold hands and he didn't comfort me,

I was slowly dying, and dying was done alone.

He did however speak.

Whispering lyrics from songs he wrote.

Gothic to every syllable, yet unable to make out

The exact intent of the words he repeated.

His green eyes completely glassy,

As he sat motionlessly, still smiling slightly.

My blood was getting low,

And I could feel my body weakening.

As he reached his pale hand out,

To almost touch me, yet stopping a few mere

Inches from my ghost-like face, he whispered,

"From the dark I can hear the silence,

So heavy to my heart that it feels as

Though it's crushing me.

All around me I feel death,

And smell the fresh odor of blood.

But I see your consciousness escape,

So the pain you had will be gone.

I did it, I set you free.

The ground is soaking up your life; your blood.

The candles are growing dull,

And you're slumping to the ground.

You're fading."

He reached out and caught a drop of blood,

That fell from my fingertips.

Without touching me, he caught the drop in his hand,

He reached down with his mouth and licked it up,

And continued,

"But you are slowly dying,

And dying is done alone."

He stood silently, and without glancing back,

He walked into the distance with his head down.

I could hear his footsteps fading,

Yet I could no longer feel the numbness,

Or the moisture of the blood,

I could smell no odor,

And I could see no flame.

I was dying and I was fading,

And dying is done alone.