Neither of us will go quietly.
That was obvious from the first.
Her moans and denials and fight are only restrained by the liquid morphine that courses through her veins.
She will not go quietly.
On the way to see her.
On the way to see her for the last time.
I did not go quietly.
The sounds of the engine and the radio could not be heard over my shrieks and sobs.
When the end comes
neither of us will go quietly
even if we don’t make a sound.
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