I mean, am
I supposed to just stand here and watch you die?
Watch your colors vanish from
your face and wait until it’s time put my hand around your neck to be sure that
your pulse is gone? To admit that you’re no longer here?
No! I’ll
rip the pulse out of your body, if I have to. I will not stop making you live,
did you hear me? You don’t get to die. You don’t get to walk out of this world,
with your pretty face and your old body, like it’s worth nothing, like I don’t
mean anything. I am here! I am here, crying about you. So don’t you die on me.
Don’t you dare to die on me.
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