She counted the minutes, counted the seconds,

Her bloodied hands clutching her crimson abdomen,

Her silky skin began to fade into a pale white shade.


Her green eyes slowly lost their shine

As she waited in the sunset's dusk,

Her only hope was latched onto his arrival.


The dull steel of the sword's blade shimmered

Silently, through the dark red stains that hid it.

She steadily looked, waiting, hoping, he would come.


The pain, it was excruciating;

The blade of the weapon firmly implanted

Inside of her temple, trying to chase the soul away.


Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy

The pain numbed down to pure exhaustion

She could not stop herself as her body clamored onto the ground

She could feel herself dying,

Her limbs slowly losing touch, feeling;

Her heart beat slower, each pump more difficult than the last;

She lied there, sprawled in a maroon pool of her own essence…

And quietly, with the last of her strength,

She grasped out her hand, searching for something,

But only receiving air.

Her eyes, fading, glazing, said what her mouth couldn't:

"He didn't come."