I really suck at doing drama/anything serious, so I figured that I would give it a try. I couldn't help but to add a few jokes, though.
I cursed under my breath, a cloud of vapor appearing as I did so.
How could this happen?
I looked at the blanketing night sky and shouted. My voice nearly hoarse.
"A pox upon you, sky! Your peerless beauty and infinite horizon shall taunt this mortal vessel no more!"
I glanced at my dagger. It seemed like an efficient killer, so cold, dripping with the poison that I had crafted that afternoon. The fumes themselves threatened to plunge me under, but, no, I had a more poetic death to face.
I sat against the tree where we had first met, first made our promise. If one of us were to die in a terrible automobile collision, the other was to stab himself at this very tree.
I caressed the bark, remembering that graceful touch!
"For you, my dear sweet love!"
I plunged the knife home, pinning me to the tree of our discontent.
Oh, if I had only succeeded that day. Now I lay here, thinking, dreaming, trapped like a featherless bird in a cage made out of somber fire.
My unsteady vision blurs further. At least the heavens granted me the ability to cry.
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