I open my eyes,
but I do not see anymore...

The air is cold, and bites at my face.
Each step is a fight, and a goal...

They taste like salt, you know. These tears...
They're part of us. They make us who we are, as...

The cold air around me
slows my heart...

Each and every time I see you,
I want to die...again...

Sometimes, I just can't...
tell you...enough...

The colors swirl around and around,
the air is cool against her skin...

All is quiet, in the night
of this room...

I sit here, quietly, in this crowd,
minding my own space...

My bed is nothing but embers, on which I will lay...
Your arms will be bound by salted, leather straps...

My death has come.
The time has come for me...

Usualy, she likes to curl up on the small
sofa in our bdroom to sleep...