Flowers

I laugh slightly, looking down at those petals, swirling in the pool of blood.

I wonder, love, do you like flowers?

If I had perhaps gotten you a bouquet.. could my ending have changed?

I slowly allowed myself to come to rest in my abomination of self destruction.

Would you have loved me back, if I had just brought you a gift? A simple cliche that so many love.

I’m not him. It wouldn’t have made a difference, I don’t think. I was just the alternative. The interest no one would have acted on, no matter what I could’ve done.

This alleyway is dark. Dark and wet, or maybe it’s my sight fading as I lay in my own blood.

I can hardly see my hands.

Who knew love could be so horrid.

He got you flowers, you know.

He gave you everything I wish I could’ve.

Maybe if I had said something different, it wouldn’t have turned out this way.

I don’t pity myself, though.

You’re happy, aren’t you?

A cold substance splashed along my face.

A tear?

That’s funny. Who would cry over me?

Oh. I see.

The storm clouds are forming now.

The sky.

The sky is crying over me.

I’m sorry to disappoint you, sky, but I cannot be as carefree and lighthearted as your clouds.

Perhaps soon.

…

Rain.

Yes, it’s raining again.

I do hate rain, it makes the mood quite somber.

I smile, and the world falls out of existence.

Not every story has a happy ending.