As I watch the black silhouette
fade on the horizon,
a thought pushes through: this will be the last
time I ever lay eyes on
him, the one I loved so much,
the one I held so dear.
His love was the only thing
that saved me from drowning in fear.
Or something saved me, because he said
his love was never true.
He told me that before he left me here
in the grass in a pool of blood and dew.
He said he never liked me,
he never even cared,
it doesn't matter to me though, it never will.
All I feel is love. I'm not even scared
of the Death that rushes to
claim me and take me to the black Abyss.
All I can think about now is him,
and how much I'm going to miss
the time we spent together,
though I know it wasn't real.
When you're dying I think love must be
the only emotion you're allowed to feel.
Death is standing here now,
waiting, watching, wanting me.
He will take me home and he'll be the last
black silhouette I'll ever see.
