it's just a blade of grass.

The color of green catches my eye. I look over and all I saw was grass. Grass for miles and miles. I smile, thinking about her. People tell me all the time, "it's just grass. what's so special about it?" it's not the grass itself that's special, it's all the memories that my heart holds with the smell of fresh cut grass, or the bright green color they turn the very first week of March. It's the memory of her. Her carefree smile on her face as she runs through a field, looking behind to make sure I can keep up.
Those are the memories I try to cling onto when I think of her.
Not the ones with the endless nights staying up late arguing. Crying, and walking away.
I would take back all the bad if I could, but I can't.
Not all love stories can have a happy ending.