There was once a girl. A girl with sunshine hair and seafoam eyes. She was my moon, my stars, my entire universe.
This girl lived with her head in the clouds, daydreaming the days away of skeletons and numbers. But these clouds weren’t bright and warm, no, they were dark and cold, full of prickling rain.
No matter how hard I pulled or how much I pushed, she could never seem to come down.
It wasn’t always like this. I remember a golden time, with breezy afternoons and calico skies. When things were bliss and our vision was hazy and rose colored. Anything was possible.
I wasn’t stupid, I knew what was happening then. But I was still naive enough to think I could save her.
She would sing to me, I would write to her. We were full of all the love in the world and I thought that would have been enough. It was for me. I would have died for her. I lived for her.
But, I sat there, day by day, watching her vibrant soul whither away in the unforgiving November air and there was not a thing i could do.
Because in the end, we cannot choose if the ones we love want to live or die.