I saw him lying there,
He looked in pain, but asleep.
His color drained—fair,
His blond hair not as deep.
I tried to walk,
Willing myself to go.
I tried to talk,
But everything dropped so low.
I touched his head—
As cold as ice.
I realized he was dead,
Not needing to look twice.
Even if our love was good or bad,
Our "has" just became a "had".
