shorty two.

My best friend is dead.

I walked up to the grave that held my best friend. This grave looked at me like a demon from the depths of hell as it held him captive. As my eyes filled with salty tears, my hands filled with numbness as I felt his name smoothed onto the gravestone. This was the hardest part for me, and he knew it. Even if he was in heaven, the place of no tears, I knew he was weeping with me forming a sad song for the angels. If God was willing, I'd take his place that very moment just to save his family- and myself- the grief. This was the hardest part for me, and he knew it. And the worst part was I didn't even say goodbye.