She died. She died in the summer of 2016. She fulfilled her life, and the lives of those around her that summer. For one last time she made everything beautiful. I started seeing colors in the sunset that I'd never noticed before. I watched day fall to night numerous times in the summer of 2016. I started to see pastels that reflected from the moon and the sun and came together so beautifully that I couldn't why I was ever sad. She made me forget, at least for a while, that bad things can happen in a world so beautiful as this. She made me feel loved.
And then she died. Two days before my birthday I lost her from life as I knew it. I took my opportunities to say good bye. I received back the gifts I had once given her. The worst part was that I had forgotten the colors she'd previously taught me to love. She and I were at a high peak in our lives. Then she fell. Fell to be broken and bruised and leave me behind. It's driven me mad. In all honesty I'll never be the same as I was. Some days I pretend that she's still here. That within a matter of minutes I can be in her gentle embrace without a care in the world. Her birthday is just around the corner. I'll send her a message so that she knows I'm thinking of her. She'll reply, with something rude and that will continue to break me.
She died. She died in the summer of 2016. She created new friends for herself in a new life. She sees new faces every day and continues to be loved by them. Everyone still knows her, but no one knows who she has become.
She died in the summer of 2016. She and I were at a high peak in our lives. Then she fell. Fell to be broken and bruised and leave me behind. She's dead to me. She died and I fear I may have pushed her over the edge.
