I know I'm not over her, it's painful and obvious at this point, but without her this book would have never been started.
The foundations of my childhood home became the foundations of an inferno.
She acts as split firewood, stoking the flame of fulminating desire.
It horrifies me she will never actually feel the heat, nor see the lights, as this will never scald her, nor scorch her eyes.
A person's still a person, but they can still put the stars in your sky.
A person's still a person but if you're hurting, they'll see the scars and ask why.
A person's still a person but what if they can light up your life.
A person's still a person, but a person can be your purpose, in time.