Wounds

I look into his eyes, our hearts beating in sync and I cup his cold cheeks into my warm tiny palms.

His moist eyes speaks many untold stories. Speaks of the pain and remorse that vibrated raw in his bones and all I could ever do was just stare at him helplessly.

"Please!" His voice cracks, "Please, take me with you. I don't want to feel like this anymore." And I feel like more than a thousand daggers are suddenly being pierced into my heart.

I blink away my hot tears and somehow manage to voice out, "Please..." I beg. "Dont say that. Time heals all wounds."

His eyes, devoid of the shine that always light up his features, stare into my soul; as he whisper in a raspy voice, "I refuse to agree on that Dandy. The wounds remain." He sucks in a deep breath. "In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."

I look into his sorrowful eyes one last time, in regret and extreme reluctance before I am forced to close my eyes forever.

Or so I thought.

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