As I touched you, my hand had smudged your precious face and in this hand are colors that had stained your angel-kissed skin.
Your hated your skin but it was what had drawn me to you, at first it was just for being the subject for a simple painting then another, and another.
I've memorised where each freckle was located. I've wanted to confess to you after I've finished my latest piece, yet before I finished it, you've stopped showing up at our meeting place.
It was then a week later that I've found out you were in a comatose from a car crash. And it was because you were about to meet with me. I've never felt so horrible in this lifetime, and the reason you were hurt was because of me. Because you were about to meet me, in our meeting place which I had decided and you innocently agreed upon.
And now they said your body cannot take it anymore and gave up. When I saw you at the hospital I felt my heart shatter as I touched the bandages covering your skin. They covered the stars, and as I feared, they can't be seen again with you smiling so preciously.
The last time I saw the stars was when they lowered you with a glass panel between us and I think there will be no more chance for me to see the sky riddled with stars as they guided you to your next life and they became your pathway.
And I've gone blind at night because everything has gone dark and the stars aren't twinkling as they last were, as when you were alive. Because they are not just the same.
