Vincent

Starry starry night, paint your palette blue and grey.

Love is a delicate thing, it can be kind, sweet like fresh honey.

It can be passionate, fierce like wood log flames.

It can be grief filled, slow and sad like a son taken to an early grave.

It can also be painful, oh so painful. See, when love hurts, it really hurts. Not a scratch, not a sting, a death more gruesome than one could imagine.

For Will Byers, it was all four.