She

She was loud and I liked to stay silent. She loved the rain; she danced among the wind, tasted the snow and whispered her secrets to the open skies.I liked to watch quietly from the window.

She laughed at the way her fingers were too small and mine were too big, but together they seemed just right. “Your hands are made for mine,” she said.When she laughed, heads would turn; eyebrows raised and frowns were on the faces of many.She erupted like a fiery waterfall, and I fell in love.

I began to laugh, too.I had forgotten how to. The rain didn’t seem all that bad anymore.I started to see the world through her eyes.The world became ours. We shared words, we shared stories.We shared poetry.She created rainbows when it was dark. Her hands never left mine, my heart was in her hands and her life, in mine.

That’s the thing with people like her. They create storms and leave. They have too much power.She, especially, was a storm of the most beautiful kind.When she left, she took all the rainbows and left me with rain. This rain, pouring down unapologetically; each drop echoing her laughter - laughter I’ll never be able to hear again.