Well... that just happened....

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I sit down next to the headstone, letting my slim hands trace the smooth surface of the stone. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been me?

I can still feel warm hands shoving me.

 The sound of screeching car breaks.

 The feeling of scraping gravel.

 The sound of screaming.

 The feeling of horror as I look around.

 The feeling of blood in his blonde, silken hair.

 The smell of the hospital.

 The feeling of brimming tears.

 The feeling of loss.

 The feeling of many arms holding me tight.

 The feeling of emptiness.

.

.

.

No longer feeling.

I sigh slightly, letting my hand trail up the carved stone to my face. The familiar sensation of tears meeting my fingers.

Grief.

Suffering.

These are but words.

The sun’s warmth had left long ago, leaving only a frigid blanket of stars to keep me company. I wonder what it would be like to hold him in my arms once more… to stroke his golden locks out of his eyes. To see his smile that would put even the sun to shame. To look into his deep violet eyes and whisper to him one more time…. I love you Matthew….