People, he told me, care a hell of a lot more when you're gone. So here, in loving memory of Shawn.

He was so fragile, like the flowers his mother used to plant in his back garden, the ones cherry red that wilted too fast. Shawn was the cherry red flower, it was when he laid in my lap, our fingers intertwined and my arms around him, that I knew he would wilt too fast. © weepies. All rights reserved. [[TRIGGER WARNING]]