You laugh,
cruelly,
as you see me desperately cling on
to your former memory.
You turn to me and say,
"Talk is cheap."
and you try to shove me away.
I only hold on tighter,
not fearing of the abyss below.
Only fearing of your existance.
Or,
your lack of one.
My innocence is gone,
stained black on black,
against your canvas.
I gasp out loud,
begging you not to jump.
You turn to my face,
and kiss me with your bloodstained lips.
The iron taste rings in my mouth,
like a distant summer memory.
The blood from your lips drip down my chin.
Tears or blood?
The two form a holy union on my face.
"Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today..."
I mutter.
You kiss me again,
speaking against my lips,
"Hold on, baby.
Dying won't hurt at all.
Especially with you."