Her favorite colors are green and brown - she says they remind her of the earth. I remember how her eyes sparkled when she told me, like she was clinging to something pure in a world that kept trying to break her. We don't come from the best of places, and maybe that's why we found each other in the wreckage. She fell first... and I fell harder. Hard enough to crack open my chest and leave something of her inside me. She told me she was damaged. That she'd ruin me. I should've listened. I should've run. But I didn't. I met her when I wasn't supposed to, in a life where our love was never meant to exist. In a country where people like us don't get to love out loud. She's toxic. I'm worse. And yet, the more she pulls away, the tighter I hold on. I crave her in ways I don't know how to explain. She's every beat in my chest, every ache in my bones, every shadow in my mind. Because in my head - no, in my soul - she's The Half Of Me. And I'll tear this world apart before I let her slip away.