A long time ago, in a classroom far far away… I wanted to be a writer.
And though I have spread your ashes to the wind, I have always held on to the parts of you that could never be burned by fire. The parts of you that live in the kindness of my best smile.
I’m trying so hard to forgive myself, for all the things that were never my fault.
I asked your heart to hold still so I could paint you in my dreams; knowing all along, that I love the way watercolor runs in the rain.
Please… Let me torture myself a little longer, so that I don’t forget what it feels like to fall in love.
I let you be imperfect, and still I gave you, too much of myself.
Sometimes, you have to let the sadness take you, to the times in your life, where love and happiness live.