She is there—holding on so dearly on what she cares the most. Tightly clinging on something she doesn't want to lose. Smiling because of the love, comfort and happiness it brings her.
She is the brightest of the brightest stars that have been founded.
She is the most colorful painting ever made.
She is perfect.
She was mine.
I made bad decisions.
I let her go.
I have hurt her.
Have I not let her go,
Have I had told her,
Could we have happened?
