Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Still . . .

I watch you run
Like wolves through the forest
Fast and light
Barely touching the ground
As you rush to his side
You hold on tight
To his thin cold body
Checking his pulse and listening for a breath
You cry because you can't handle the pain
Tears stream down like curtains
Covering your once pigmented skin
You shake him and yell at him
Trying to bring back the motionless body
Refusing to accept what has happened
But nothing helps
He's gone...

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