red-stained fingertips

dulce bellum inexpertis

i think i laughed when your eyes went blank,
because it couldn't have been real.

your skin cold, your blood still.

my arms weren't long enough to hold every piece of you,
but i promise that i wanted to.

i didn't mean for your heart to slip through.

whatever is the essence of you.

it slipped out too.

so i held what was left just a little bit closer,
and laughed just a little bit harder.

until my throat began to bleed with the essence that was still flowing through me,
though it should have belonged to you.

and i began to cry as the harsh reality rung true.

that in my arms was a mass of unmoving blood and cooling flesh,
something that could never wrap its arms around me again.

and i sit here as i lament for such a loss,
wondering how the world chooses what it takes.

it could have been me.

but it wasn't.

what a fucking stupid mistake.