So here it is. The hour has come. I hold your face in my hands, my thumbs brushing your earlobes. I lean in and smell your scent for the last time. Your strong lashes flutter against mine and I kiss away your tears. Your lips tremble, unsure of yourself for perhaps the only time in your life. I see your heart beating through your chest, pounding against the ivory cage of your ribs. The power flows through your veins, pulsing like a bird. But your eyes. Your eyes have become pale. The soft black stars have gone. The only thing left now is your cushioned lips. My world hangs from your cheek bones, the weight of the existence presses down on your shoulders. The time has come and I have to turn away. I am here with Peter and your Mother. We watch in pain, and I can still taste your salty tears on my lips.