Her eyes speak of sorrow which no words could describe, Her lips pursed trying to keep her mind from speaking. Constantly thinking just when she should say enough. But she kept holding on, Surviving another moment.
The flower in the wasteland exudes life itself: The physical entity of determination and will to live. Yes she may be damaged from all the toxic surroundings. And yes there were times she accepted her weakness. But she still prevails. Sprouting joy despite all that. She's special. She's the flower that survived.
Let's pretend that I can be there, Let's pretend that we're not fighting. Pretend that we are not arguing. Remember only the good times. The moments that we felt complete with just each other. Because it only matter what you choose to see.