I would like to say that she fought bravely until her last moments but that would be a lie.
Because she did not want to die.
So ,of course, when shadows washed her room, she was terrified.
"I don't want a battle from beginning to end
I don't want a cycle of recycled revenge
I don't want to follow death and all His friends"
That was the last song she had played on her stereo.
"The entire time she had been alive, she had a strong will to live, to make an impression and not merely exist, "the minister rants on.
Had she been here, she would have accused them of being banal about describing her life the way they did because the people at her funeral knew exactly how much of a taciturn she was.
Nobody is poetic about life. Its Death that feeds on eulogies.
But funerals, i had decided a long time back, were for the living because the dead are truly gone.
Now that she's gone I realize that the sun has set on my life.
The black moonless night is all I can see.
The darkness falls but this time, she isn't here to rescue me.
There are some kind stars that twinkle form above though.
Those are stars of reason, the reasons of existence.
She isn't any of those stars.
She's the dazzling sunset-orange twilight I shall forever be hung-up on.
The twilight is long gone. It will never come back.
This is the endless night.
The sun will never rise.
