"Untitled."

…”And I think this song is about death”,

she said, her hands clasped together.

“I wish it wasn’t,” he told her.

It was raining and they sat in the corner booth by the window.

“Sometimes people have to talk about the bad things,” she said. “It’s a part of life.”

“And if we do, it makes life so much easier.”

She sat there, not looking at anything.

He was quiet, but he always was.

They were the only ones there,

When the rain turned into snow in the streetlight, he told her, “I love you.”

She smiled and said,

“You are the love song I want to sing everyday.”

He sat there across from her, his hands around hers-cold and frail.

His breath warming her,

She knew of nothing else.

But the whisper of his words,

And the flutter in her heart when he spoke.

His words flying like gentle s

                                                n

                                                   o

                                                     w

                                                     f

                                                   l

                                                 a

                                               k

                                             e

                                           s.