PG, canon character death
still standing, tall, controlled. But it's all wrong, because behind the pane, in a hermetically closed room, you're dying.
I see you tumble and sink to your knees, but it is as if there were dozens of panes, shielding me from the pain I should feel.
How can I still stand; why don't I fall with you?
standing over your body that is lying on the table of my morgue, your skin blistered, your face damaged almost beyond recognition.
But I know every line behind the traces of your sacrifice, touch them when I prepare you. Remove your uniform until the body
that I patched a thousand times lies in front of me, cold and with the dark green lines of decayed copper proteins, where
once were your pulsing veins. How can I bear putting my hand on you without a tear?
the end, I sit down. I don't know where, but it's a warm and cozy, fitting place. Here I can wait in silence, let the inner
voice whisper to me calmingly. When our friend enters, it speaks more loudly; I don't understand the words, but it doesn't
matter. From here on, I will remain standing because you need me to. Until we're home together.