I watched her.

For six months, I watched her.

She was fine at first, but slowly

she deteriorated.

Like a flower, a daisy (her flower),

that had its petals slowly torn away.

In a way, it was vicious.

But she held such peace.

And finally, I came to look upon

a skeleton, practically,

where she had starved

from the tumors inside her.

I had been a coward to look at her before.

But there she lay, eyes half open

and staring lifeless at me.

Into me.

I stared, lifeless, right back.

And then I giggled.

I don't know why.

I was so afraid, perhaps.

Or maybe the situation was ludicrous

because I was in a room

with a corpse

that died too slowly.

So don't think I don't know

what it means to be

like you.

I know what it's like

to be

heartless.