A deep sea of words

Stare

His eyes. Locked onto me. His golden hair spread around his head like a halo. Light rays illuminating small spots across it, making it almost seem like it sparkled. His head was stretched slightly to the back so his eyes could reach me, making it possible for me to grasp the whole beauty of his face. His cute nose that didn't  have a single curve. If it would have been bigger one might have seen it as bulky but due to it being small it fit just perfectly into his face. His full lips were tucked slightly upwards. Though his lower half of the face was dipped in a shadow you could still see that his face was exceptionally defined. Not only his lips but also his high cheekbones and his slightly too pointed chin. When I let my eyes wonder futher I saw his arm and hand stretched out to reach me. His usually button down and spotless white shirt was opened giving the perfect view on his strong chest. His muscular but slim legs were wrapped in a dark blue skinny jeans. They were spread slightly open and his left leg was turned slightly outwards.

His whole body seemed relaxed.
All over, he seemed peaceful.
Except that this scene was everything but. When you looked closely. When you looked through my eyes and used your brain. When you would just finally see. When you, dear brain only would allow yourself to remember and to aknowladge. Then maybe you would, at last,  grasp the whole scenery and notice that this scene bore the greatest horror I could have imagined.
My eyes would see that his hair was no halo and though spread around his head it was really roughed up. It was still golden. There was still light shining on it but yet everything would seem glum. There was no order anymore. Everything was chaos. From his head to his feet. One of them was covered with a bloody sock with more holes than fabric. His other still stuck in a damp looking, worn out leather shoe. If the pupils of my eyes were only to realize that his shirt wasn't just simply opened but torn with large holes and rips in it. That the white now was more a muddy black- brown speckled with deep red pools of blood was another fact my eyes failed to grasp.
Dear brain, can't  you see that even his jeans is ruined? That nothing was spared? That his fawn coloured usually flawless skin was covered in large scratches and deep blue bruises? Why couldn't you notice that it was over? Why is it that when I look at him I only see this warm and near to perfect boy in front of me and not the cold and lifeless body that he was now? Why did I look at his body and where his last gaze was turned towards but never truly in his eyes?

I am asking myself these useless questions to which I know the answer to every single one without a fail.
These questions are wandering through my mind for the same reason that I can't acknowledge the truth. The thoughts are not allowed my to reach my conscious brain because then I would have to acknowledge that he was dead. I would have to acknowledge that his eyes were empty never to shine and sparkle full of laughter and hope again. I would have to acknowledge that he wasn't here any more. Never to hold me in his loving arms again. Gone forever. And I just didn't want that. A world without him wasn't something I was willing to admit to yet.
And so I'm lying here. Giving myself back into the illusion that he was still here. Back to the beginning.