They were right, I didn't feel a thing, it doesn't hurt. Neither I heard a single thing, not a scream not even my skull cracking, it was all silence. I did see everything, the dirt over the white floor and the shoes of the man who shoot me but never the blood running through me. My body fall effortless to the ground, I was there several minutes until a man lifted me. I kept looking around trying to feel the pain of death. Instead, I feel love, I felt the love of a man, the one who loved me no matter what. He was beside me, still alive just for a short moment until he wasn't breathing anymore. I wonder, if he was able to see me just as I saw him, lying on the floor dripping brown blood from his forehead, nose broken and dry lips. The man I love was looking right through me, emotionless, eyes fully open. Pain, fear, concern, mean nothing to me right now, I only felt love and happiness, a desire to be alive and hold his hand to make sure he never forgets that I surrender all my sorrow. No one ever talks about the short moment between life and death.
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Drinking you | Estoy bebiéndote
PoetryHere I land all sort of heartbroken stories to warm a pair of cold hands as a coffee mug, find as well spirit lifted stories of a night out with a little too much drinks followed of a sore morning with regret and a hangover.