Granting Forgiveness~

I sit across from the stone.
The stone that holds his name, date of birth and date of death.
I sit there so still, so quiet, I think the air has stopped breathing too.
I watch as memory after memory flashes through my mind faster than lighting.
I see him laughing. His warm brown eyes on my lashes, watching them; studying them. His content keeping me content.
Those moments were always perfect.
Always taking me by surprise.
I swear there was never a flawless moment with that boy, only the one where he held the gun thinking it was broken and shot me in the gut.
I can still feel his tears slipping down my cheeks as he cradled me in that puddle of red liquid.
His hands beating on my chest after I stopped breathing.
The thoughts shake the wood of my cascet under his knees.
He's been searching for another memory that doesn't end with me laying dead on the gore covered floor. He's been searching for forgiveness that's already been granted.
I stand over him, invisible to the living, my lips pressed to his temple, my hands on his cheeks.
I watch as the letters fade into smooth marble then begin to imprint my name, my date of birth, my date of death. 
I understand now why I saw his name at first.
I understand why when I was the one breathing, everyone and everything seemed despicable. Because the second that bullet knocked me dead, it knocked him dead too.
He can still breathe.
He can still fall in love, even though he's chosen not to. Not yet, but eventually he will. He'll find a girl, they'll get married, have children.
He can still breathe.
He can still love.
But he hasn't yet, and I despise him for not.
So I kiss him once more. I feel his skin graze against me, one last time. Just once, before I pull away and show my shadow down to where my bones and rotting flesh lay in a silk lined box with stale, wilted flower petals covering my chest.
Where my light green dress is beginning to fade of its color along with my dark brown curls.
I'm pulling away, so he can move forward.