She is not your ordinary girl, eighteen years and seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. She’ll be flipping her rose-colored hair with every laugh and smile you give her. Every moment that makes the world what it is, she’ll be a co-creator.
There is nothing richer than the happiness she feels when you come to her. Nothing more sincere than her pride in you for reaching to her. Unlike the rest, she expects nothing, and sees the beauty in everything, no matter how small.
She’ll be with you when the walls fall down. The room is fragile, and when it starts to crumble, people run. It’s empty, as it should be. You can’t leave. She chooses not to. She stands there and holds you when the roof caves in. She keeps you warm when there’s nothing left.
She’s not here to rebuild anything, nor prevent the next catastrophe. She doesn’t move from beside you, despite everything inside you, she is your angel, with invisible wings and a halo of flowers.