The Good Die Young

I killed you. God sure has it tough. He takes life away for reasons only He knows. I didn’t want it to happen. Any objection would only be an excuse. You were perfect. You were alive. I tried to complete you. I added an extra chromosome. Now you’re unrecognizable. The switch worked both ways. I lost a part of myself. I stung you and I lost my sting. In reverse recompense, you killed me.

We exist. God sure has it easy. He’s a wanton boy. I think of you and say, “It was nice knowing him.” Was. Death can’t be undone. We no longer live. We exist.

If I were alive, I’d be thankful to you for allowing me the privilege of knowing who you used to be. We had the best of times, we had the worst of times. A thought just flashed through my mind. And you’d understand, if you were alive.

Your goodness killed you. Your goodness killed me. No sense in debating now. Death brings out reality. We killed each other; we gave our lives for each other; what does it matter?

Now I know why they say, “The good die young.” Feels good we’re good.