8:40
She was a daisy in a blooming field, a lonely star in the milky way. Lost in translation among a crowd, screaming out without a sound.
9:23
She wore the sweetest smile, a smile that could turn your sorrows upside down. A laugh that could send away your fears. A hug that could warm the darkest parts of your soul.
9:28
She wrote like the world was ending, like the sky was falling and she aspired to capture every detail of every glimpse, destructive and beautiful, she caught it all.
10:03
I dreamt of laughing with her. We  were laughing about childhood stories over ice cream and cherries in the park. We met a d dog with two different colored eyes, complimentary opposites. One dark and one of light and joy, like me and her. She was playing with him while I was staring at her. It was innocent. We talked and talked but all I remember was laughing. And I was laughing with her.
12:37
I met a girl of smiles and daisies
Pixies and poems and poetic sayings
I met an angel who lit up the room
Light from the other side of the moon

With the moon I change night in and out continuously through cycles of light and darkness, through tides high and low. I alternate between every shade in between but never purely black or white. I am flawed, and I am god. I am hidden, but I radiate.

I am melancholic like the colors of the sun's last kiss in the sky.
I am manic like the moon's oceanic replies.

a familiar melancholy slowly fills my lungs, puncturing each lonesome rib until it permeates my entire physical being. a disease embedded into my DNA, flowing through my veins where the blood reaches my brain through a crooked spine and wellness becomes obsolete

by midnight's light I turn to thee
who knows of dark eternally
and in her name one might find
a secret love in which to confide

Like fireworks that lit the sky one December night,they were two people that touched for only a brief moment and they burned and burned until there was nothing but cinders in their eyes.
Both were fires that burned to light the way for one another.
Maybe they just burned too bright and time  moved too fast,
Maybe she was his anchor, she kept him tethered, kept him there,steady and unable to move forward.
The world may never know, except for this:
"They" were as fleeting as time and their ephemeral words made it evident that both of them couldn't stay forever because even the brightest of lights die out—sometimes,far more early than others.
They weren't just fireworks—I know that now— each of them were forest fires and they burn for the other to provide warmth and light,oblivious to the destruction that they make.
They were forest fires.
And now all they are is rain and tears, drowning in an ocean of memories.
And as I write this,I can't help but think that in some ways this wasn't just the story of them,it was our story too: the story of us that never was and never will be.
-W.L.A.C

Walking into first period I am a 12-year-old girl again,
Confidence turned into racing heartbeats and jumbled words.
Imaginary conversations fill my head with possibilities but nothing ever seems to escape my lips but a timid smile.
I trash my spearmint gum and begin walking back to my seat, the teacher has only just begun talking.
I take three steps before daring to look up,
by the fourth I see blue out of my peripheral...
You are looking at me.
The fifth step, I am looking at you.
And for the entirety of that second all the other faces of the room blurred and I swear the history lesson took a pause for the present and there was solely that simple look to be shared.
A look I have found to be all too familiar but yet it never comes enough to be able to fully decipher it.
It is a look of timid desire.
It is a look of fire and ice, of two elements of opposite worlds colliding.
It is a look of earth and water.
A sly romance which everyone sees but no one knows.
Water hits the shore and I am chocolate melting, I am soil eroding.
I am the tree's branches bending under the misty wind.
I am the earthquake that causes the hurricane, the tsunami.
Yet you are calm like the tranquil sea.
Your eyes the color of the shallow water on a southern beach just before the break of a gentle wave at shore in the first hour of sunrise.
I think of you, and there are butterflies.
I look at you, and they rest.
We both simultaneously break our glance as I turn to my seat.
Oh, how I wish you were sitting next to me.