She gazed at him alluringly and grinned. No further words were necessary.

I can see her struggling to find the right word. Death seems so harsh. Passing so oblique. Some things are beyond words, I suppose, and she never finishes the statement. It seems right, that her words should fall into oblivion; after all, she—like me, like everyone—has no words for what follows, for the unknowable, only her hopes and prayers and an unwavering faith in something more.

Maybe we ran out of words, maybe we don't know what to say, maybe we both want to go our separate ways, maybe we want to speak up but we're afraid. All I know is this feeling isn't fading away.

I just wish you could see my demons for what they are, and lay here beside me on the floor. No words. Just your presence.