Tacenda

COLD {America}

Because we are both complete RusAme trash. -turtle 

-/-/-

I saw you right before you jumped. Right before you fell. I saw your face, the single tear that fell along with you. And I heard it. The soft whisper that escaped you lips at the last moment: sorry. For once, I felt so helpless, so sorry. For the first time, I could not be the hero. I had no cape I could use to fly to your rescue. You were gone. Gone for good.

You would have liked your funeral. I was warm and quiet, just the way you always were. We were all there, heads bowed, but no one cried as much as I did. When you were lowered down, I made sure to throw a sunflower in with you. You were my sunshine, Ivan, and I never thought you would leave me in the cold.

Cold. Because now it really is cold. Not in the way you were cold, your jacket always freezing but your arms warm for me. This isn't the cold, the cold warm that only you could be. This is painful cold. Freezing, ice cold. Like being dropped into a lake in the middle of winter. And I can't keep swimming.

Your grave is so neat, so tidy, a pale white headstone and a fresh sunflower left in front of it every day. How could you leave? They called you a monster, but you were my angel. You would always hug me after they laughed, kiss me after they left, tell me it would be alright. And the entire time you were dying inside. I would have helped, Ivan. I would have helped. I would have been there. I should have been there. And I wasn't. What kind of a hero am I?

Wait for me, Love.