There was no bright
light in my death, but perhaps that is because I
wasn’t destined for the
angelic beauty of heaven. No, my short lived life had been played out with so
much sin and excess that there would no doubt be a special cage in hell with my
name on it. In my death, I felt and saw nothing. No warmth, no cold, no light,
no darkness, just nothing. When I woke, he was gone, the only piece of
perfection in my ugly world. Part of me was grateful that he had finally found
the good sense to leave. Another part of me was broken, irrevocably and
agonizingly broken.
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