Work Text:
To tell the truth,
I didn't feel anything when you died–
Your bloodied face resting in my calloused hands.
I didn’t feel guilty, I didn't even feel sad
Just tired
It didn't have to be you, you know?
It could have been anyone.
You meant everything to me, but it wasn't simply you that I needed so desperately.
I liked to think of you as the person who saved me, you held my hollow bones close when it felt like no one else would–
But no, it didn't have to be you.
I think I would have felt that desperate grasp on anyone who showed me kindness, you just happened to be the first one there.
You helped me get better, helped me feel real– human, even though that's something I clearly no longer am.
It didn't have to be you,
You were just the first person to reach out.
It didn't have to be your smile I found solace in, but it was.
It didn't have to be your voice that I ached every day to hear, but it was.
It didn't have to be your shoulder that I would cry on late at night while we sat beneath the endless sky, but it was.
I kneel to the ground, your head still resting in my arms and I cry.
I don’t cry for you, I don't cry because I’m sad or sorry– I cry because there's nothing holding me from the forest now, nothing tying me back.
My love,
Your throat has been ripped out
And the tips of your fingers have been cut away,
My love,
You’ll never sing again.