Posted in Love

What disappears isn’t love

She pulled him in her arms and felt his breath, looked into his eyes and got closer to them. They could hear each other’s heartbeat, could feel their breath calming. He felt her smooth skin under her shirt. She held his jaw line and kissed his lips. They kissed like they couldn’t get enough of their love. Her smooth hair tickled his cheek. He paused and smiled and kissed her again. They slipped themselves under the blanket, hugging each other. They made love, for the last time. He knew he was leaving her. She fell asleep in his arms. He slipped silently at the break of dawn. She woke up at the sound of a gunshot and understood he was gone. He was shot in the chest. He smiled and breathed for the last time. She ran towards the woods and saw him lying dead. Last night was the last night of love. She fell on her knees next to him, his dead body. She felt his half warm body, that was cuddled up in her arms last night. She was told he had to be shot. They couldn’t, after all, leave a criminal alive for too long. She was mistaken to be listening to the words spoken to her. He was soulless, so was she. They breathed their last breath together. It was over, they were gone.

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Posting things because saying them in person won't make an impact.

3 thoughts on “What disappears isn’t love

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