It was the perfect night for a funeral. Totally alone in the darkness, she sat. The stars weren't shining; they'd been covered completly by clouds, but that didn't matter. They'd spent more time together in the dark than the light anyway. It wrapped around her comfortingly, caressing her as he used to do. She relaxed into it, letting the memories flood over her.

Blue eyes in a crowd...
That voice...

Love's first kiss...

Wearily, she draped her hands over her face, letting the sharp smell of his blood flow onto her skin. It was satisfying, although she'd loved him more than she'd loved herself. Yet he was perfect in death now. His life's perfection was now preserved.

Last words...
I love you...
Why can't this last forever?

They say only one thing is certain in life: death. The one thing she was sure of was that love, like death, lasts forever. So can love last forever in death? She'd waited as long as she could, until there could be no doubt he loved her, until he'd told her those three words and meant every syllable.

His body next to hers...
A flash of silver...
A river of red...

She'd killed him. But she'd done it because she loved him. Because life is hard, and love is not, and his last memory would always be of her.

Why can't this moment last forever?

In death in can.

Leaning over his dead body, she kissed his cold lips one final time, before turning around and walking away. She never looked back.

AN: Inspired by reading Porphyria's Lover by Robert Browning. Probably my darkest piece yet...