Everyone leaves, some later than others.
Till death do us part, and death will; it keeps its promises.
Hand in hand, put a bullet through our brains and it delivers.
Savour the tumultuous ataraxia as utter loneliness slices through the air,
racing the splattering of crimson memories.
Drenched in stillness, lusting for it to be over.
For the sweet relief of ever after.