Is It...My Fault?

It's a sad story.
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I used to tell you my favorite color was green and you never asked why. It was because of your eyes. They held the most beautiful green I'd ever seen. No other green compared to your luminous eyes. I would tell you that I loved milk chocolate because it was the same color as your hair. The hair I used to run my fingers through. The same hair you grew out so when it was long enough you could cut it and give it to charity. I remember you used to love helping people. You still do but it's different now. Now when you do you get teary-eyed. I can see it on your face from up here. I think you get that sadness because I used to be by your side helping but now you do it alone. Is it my fault that helping doesn't feel the same as it used to?

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