labored breathing,
shaky sighs,
trembling limbs,
one. two. three. a falter. four.
the hissing friction of noose to neck
more gasps for air.
*dialogues**bewilderedlooks**pleads**realization*
*SILENCE*
and he hangs there,
wrists bound, as if praying.
for what? salvation in the afterlife?
the irony's sickening.

"It was a terrible experience, and I will never get over it."
*dialogues*
"you DIDN'T want to save him."

and there was the portrait of him.
and that guilt that'll be with him.
knawing him, dissolving him, killing him.

-Capote