In the end, he is the one she thinks of.

Though he was the one who caused her premature ending, she felt he was somewhat responsible for beginning it. Metaphorically speaking, of course, it was her mother that really “Started” her life. But he is the one who helped it begin, with his kind words and patience, her helped her open up, helped her “bloom” in poetic terms of endearment.

Her end had much more blood than she would have expected, keeping in mind that she had always thought her ending would be in the double-digits that were wrinkled by age and long time wear, maybe even triple the numbers if she were lucky.

But no, this particular end was, in fact, in the two digit range. Only this range was filled with worries of diets and beauty, nights wishing for another warm body to be curled against her, and day dreams of the future and what was to come.

Death, she thinks, must have great joy in ending the life of a being where life hasn’t even began yet. So many books filled with ghosts and tears and tragedy, leave girls sighing. Wishing for someone to love them enough to die, and perhaps, they may die with them. A true sacrifice of “true love” they think. Society has a way corrupting something so awful and making it poetic and just.

But still, in her end, caused by her love, it is still him she thinks of. In this shell of twisted metal and shards of glass, she feels her love for him grow. Wishing they could rise out of this cocoon of death and become beautiful, angelic, butterflies, ready to ascend into death with poise and grace.

This death, is quiet the opposite, filled with his crying and her raspy tones, attempting to calm the dying man next to her before his actual death. Her broken, bloody hand finds his, and she grabs it, gripping tight for his sake even though the broken bones scream in agony.

His final words were not “I love you” but, “I’m sorry” his final breath was a raspy cough, filled with blood and sorrow. All the wishes for a warm body laying next to her, had given her one, but it was losing heat fast and so was she.

Her final words to him were, “I love you” a poetic end, of a poetic young love, because in the end, he was the last thought on her mind.

She hoped his were as nice a thought.

Wow