The henna on her hand traced her veins and the designs made her personality shine through, not only with her words, but with the ink on her skin.
Her pale skin that people would sometimes find hilarious, you found made you smile, and flash bright light through your dark, clouded mind.
Sometimes, when you went over to her house, you caught glimpses of the titles of her books in her little library. They brought meaning to her, and whispered facts about her that still are embroidered in your mind to this day.
You still remember that one night where you and her sat outside on the driveway, and she rambled on about the pitch black sky, and how the stars only shine in the darkest of days. Or how she didn't know what she wanted to do with her life, but that she really wanted to leave a little dent in, not the world as everyone sees it, but in someone's universe. At that very moment, you knew she had made your life better than it was before.
Every single day, you remember how she spoke in a tone that couldn't quite be described as singing, but more like music to your ears, and yours only.
She used to sing you to sleep over the phone, and you wish so very deeply, that you would've appreciated it more.
She still had all your hoodies, but you don't want them back. Well, deep down, you sorta do. Not in a selfish way, just so you could smell her sweet scent. It didn't even smell this beautiful after it was washed in your finest detergent. Only her aroma could leave your clothing smelling better than a washing machine ever could.
You remember how she always carried around her camera. She needed to capture every moment, because snapshots hidden in her mind was just not good enough. She was always overwhelmed with excitement each time the film was filled to the max. Those same pictures were strung together, and hung on your wall. At 2am in the morning you would clutch them to your heart, and tears would slide down their now stained surface.
In your dreams, you can clearly recall her soft voice, her beautiful curves, and sparkling eyes. It hurts to think of the time where you could easily see all of these things through your eyes, and not have to only imagine them.
"If you could have one, tiny, simple wish, what would it be?" You can hardly fight back all the tears that are rushing to the surface.
"Oh, that's simple," you choke out, "It would be to be at her side the night she decided Earth wasn't the place for her. Maybe I could've convinced her to not leave me. That I cared, when she thought nobody else did."
