(o) you're not the same, you died along the way

Maea

Rest against my pillow
like the aging winter sun

She could only nod, because any words she tried to put on the storm within clogged up the throat and made her feel ill. Sick to the core, with what she had become. And the sad part was that it was really no one's fault but her own. Whatever darkness that touched her soul had curled up and festered where a spark once had resided, until it seemed that bitter ichor was all she consisted of, these days. A viper through and through.

The letter was a good idea. Something she ought to have thought of herself, though perhaps the lack of distance had ruled it out as an imposition on whoever had to deliver it.
"I will do that. Thank you."

She began to stir, then. Pushed up slightly, and peered over the edge to make sure the banshee had disappeared. Only when the forest edge was clear did she fully rise to her feet.
"I should leave you alone," she murmured. It was an offer, really, to remove herself - now that she had thoroughly spoiled the mood and ruined his day. "Sorry, for breaking the promise. About not talking of the past. I just... had to come clean." Before something, or someone else could use her secrets to sow seeds of mistrust.

It was enough if she did so on her own.

Only wake each morning to
remember that you're gone