She's a dreamer of a million dreams, always dreaming, forever dreaming. She's the crazy schemer who won't stop to breathe. She's the reason I sit and ponder at her for hours. I am constantly wondering about her. I think about why she is the way she is, why she won't have me, why she's always running. I never satisfy myself with any answers. I cannot make them up and fool myself. I think about us. Our relationship; the mess of it, the craziness, the complications, the chaos, the crisis, the cuddling, the silence, the argueing, the hollow beating of my empty heart. She won't look at me as her boyfriend, because I never will be. She's always running.

We are walking in school, she is next to me. Her cold hand slides into mine and her thin, curvy body warms my side as she cuddles close. I want so badly to kiss her, but I know she'd slap me. I have her... in this moment, all mine. I promised myself I wouldn't lose her.
I turn to tell a friend something and before I can grasp her hand tight enough, she slips out of my reach again. There were only certain days she came to me for support or in need. There were only few days she felt weak or sad. I loved being there for her to come to.
She seemed to be always running, always dreaming, always flying, always falling.
She is so beautiful to me... this broken angel I know was always pushing me away then pulling me close. Never was there a happy medium. Either she wouldn't tell me anything or she broke down in my arms. I wanted nothing more than to be hers... to hold her arms, to love her to make her mine. She simply wouldn't give me the chance.
Dealing with her was like dealing with water. I can taste, see and feel water, like I could taste her kisses, see her with me and feel her touch. The thing about water was it always slippes through your fingers. No matter how tight you press your hands together. After the liquid drains away, I can still see it on my hands, a glossy reminder of what was there, like I could see her still with me but not mine. I can still feel the water on my fingers like I can feel her hand in mine. I can't hold her down. She is like a caged bird, always wanting to fly.