You see her from down the hall. She looks distracted. And her eyes are watering. Overflowing. Oh. She's crying. Frantically rubbing her stormy grey eyes with her fist. She doesn't want anyone to see. But you do. And you desperately want to help her. But that would be weird. That would draw attention. And you wouldn't want that. You don't want attention. You want a status.

You see her from across the room. She looks pained. And you feel her heart beat, as if it was your own. Unyielding. Hey. She's staring. At you. But as soon as you catch her beautiful eyes, she turns away ashamed. She knows you don't want anyone to see. And you're ashamed. Because she's happier and you never helped her. And you still think of her eyes when you don't see her. It takes away all other thought. And you hate it. Because you love those eyes.

You see her talking to someone else. She looks okay. And you notice her smile. Crooked. Uh-oh. She's talking. A soft voice soothes your feelings, even though it's barely audible. She looks embarrassed at what she just said. You don't want her to feel anything but joy. But she's smiling, and you want it to be because of you. But it's not. And eventually she becomes silent. Again.

You see her laughing. She looks adorable. And her face is turning red. Crimson. Ha! She's cheerful. It's not a chorus of angels ringing heavenly bells, or doves softly cooing in the morning at a happy wedding. She feels subconscious. But you don't want her to. You want to make her laugh. To hear the sound again. Once wasn't enough. You need it again.

You see her flirting. She looks attempting. Her expression is trying for seductive. Flirtatious. Wow. She's good. Adjusting her soft hair down the left side and biting her bottom lip, like it's not attractive. She takes a glance at you. You feel your face heat up. She doesn't even flinch. The hole in your chest grows deeper, prying at the last bit of hope you have left. You don't want anyone else.

You see her heartbroken. She looks miserable. And drowning in her sorrow. Anguish. Ouch. She's weeping. Wondering what she did to make her loving boyfriend feel the need to cheat on her. She feels guilty at everything she didn't do. Her brilliant mind is flickering through everything that happened. You want to comfort her, but you still don't really know her. And you wish you did because she looks lonely.

You see her get stronger. She looks hopeful. And she bats her eyes secretively. Amorous. Yes. She's blushing. You decide to man up and make a move that could decide each others future. She doesn't care who knows anymore. Neither do you. Maybe it's fate. So you approach her, lighting a easy conversation between you two. And of course you're nervous. But you beat the hesitant side of you, and she starts to smile.

You see her greet you affectionately. She looks jubilant. And her hands are warm. Snug. Ah. She's content. You're content. After feeling worthy of something-or someone-she becomes more spirited. And it fills you with satisfaction. You don't need anything else. You finally have her in your grasp.

You see her catching you in the act. She looks hurt. And she makes no effort to hold her emotions in. Torn. Oh no. She's devastated. Gushing tears that should have been someone else's. She doesn't care if you see. And you do. You know you made a mistake. And you're terrified she will never forgive you. That would kill you. You won't accept anyone else.

You see her when you apologize. She looks unimpressed. And you don't expect forgiveness. Mercy. Wait! She's calling. You turn at her voice, surprised she wants you back. You thank her for another chance to many times to count. You promise to her, as well as yourself, that this time will be better. And she believes you. You're not sure if you do.

You see her walking. She looks like a bride should on her wedding day. She's gleaming and glowing and looks terrific in her white dress. Elegant. Woah. She's ecstatic. You need to take a double check that she is your bride. She wants everyone to know. When she recites her vows that she wrote herself, you almost cry in front of everyone. But you refuse to care and feel salty tears starting to burn in your eyes. But it's a good feeling.

You see her cries in the night. She's ready. And the agonizing screeches get louder. You don't want her to feel any pain. Because if she feels anything, so do you. You're connected. That's why this next part hurts. Aching. Ow! She's sobbing. You kiss her too many times to count, and look down at the new face you will love forever. As an equal to her. The little bundle of joy cries. A lot. But he was worth it. You name him after her father.

You see her exhausted. She's fatigued. But she refuses to stop and rest. You let her know you will do anything for her. She already knows. Devoted. Shh! She closed her eyes for the night. You hold her in your arms. The two people you love the most are resting, It would be cruel to wake them. You reflect on your life.

You see her wave goodbye. She's proud. She now has an empty nest. Isolated. Well. You still have each other. She's low spirited. Tiny crystal beads drip down her cheeks. For half a second you see that thirteen year old girl, you couldn't talk to because you were afraid of what your friends thought. The look is gone and you kiss her with passion. You can make her feel better.

You see the colour in her face disappear. She's grief-stricken. The terrible news is giving her life a time limit. Bound. No. She's a time bomb. You tell her it will be okay, but she realizes it isn't. You realize everything won't return to normal. There is no cure for cancer.

You see her smile hold on for life. She's dying. The smile you love will be gone shortly. Rapidly. Oh. Her weak body matches your unsteady heart. She says goodbye for the last time. You tell her you will be reunited. She says to not think that way. She leaves you, and you live for years in heart wrenching torment. She's gone.

You see her reminder. She looks non existent. But you carry her with you everyday. Spirit. Ah. She's hard to forget. The days until you see her haunt you. The distance separating you in too great. Until that day you meet her again.