A Walk With the Dead

     Your remains were found by the highway. First on the scene were the vultures, one was picking at your eyes when I arrived. The silence of your scene was deafening, and I became overwhelmed. Your wounds screamed suicide, my heart echoed regret. I hadn't gotten out of bed since you went missing. You'd broken my heart the last time we spoke.
          

I got the call at 6am, they wanted me to ID you. Sickening isn't the word, it wasn't you I identified, but a rotting corpse that once held your soul - and incidentally my world. In my heart I guess I believed that the earth would stop spinning, or that everything around me would crumble. When nothing happened, I dropped to my knees and took your hand into mine. I spoke softly to you, something I rarely did. You listened to every word I said, every apology I uttered... Nothing brought you back. No words could make you smile again.
          

Your stiff stillness eventually got too much for me to take, so I said goodbye. Walking away wasn't as difficult as I thought it'd be, yet I cried the whole way back to my bed. The escape wouldn't come, every time I closed my eyes your corpse was all I could see. Four days passed like this, and then I began to see you even when my eyes were open. We went on many walks together, through the park and around the neighborhood; but mostly we just wandered through my house. I tired of your disappearing games, I just wanted to be where you were.
          

I'd attempted suicide a handful of times during my teen years, but there had always been desperation fueling me. This time was different, I was calm. You were right there by my side while the cyanide capsules dissolved into me. I clung to you when the pain started, and you held me while I died. They found us days later. I was clutching your corpse.