He was her angel

Innocent and gentle, but strong

The sweet rhapsody of his voice

He touched her soul with music and language

Together one heart

Thousands of moments, happy and sad

He always remembered the simple things

When she was slipping,

He held her close

He was her angel

Her hero

The one she loved most

For reasons unexplained and often misunderstood

A dampening of the sleeves and shirt

Repeatedly mistaken as the weep of just the lonely

Sometimes unintended or unexpected

Caused by a memory, a victory, a loss

A release of one's overwhelming feelings

Liquidized salt tumbling in drops, dribbles and drips

Leaves crystallized rivers stinging on cheeks

There's this guy at school
He smells like Dr.Pepper
His pants sag a bit
But I think I love him anyway

His hair falls into his eyes
Lips are always pursed
I don't hear him talk too much
But I think I love him anyway

He always taps his left foot
I always tap my right
He listens to rap
But I think I love him anyway

He squints when he's tired
His hoodie is only half zipped
His grades could be better
But I think I love him anyway

It's not a magnetic kind of love
Yet I know I'd take a bullet
He's rough around the edges
But I know I love him anyway

              People ask me all the time, why I'm so quiet. I don't think most people my age understand what it's like to hear everything. When you actually close your mouth for more than two minutes, you can hear a lot. Watching people and seeing the way they interact with others is honestly really interesting to me. Believe me, at home I am a chatter box; my mom often tells me to shut up. But at school I just like to listen. I guess I'm kind of shy... I mean if someone approached me I'll carry on a conversation, but I think you can learn more about a person by how they speak to others than you can by what they tell you themselves. So, the next time someone asks me why I'm so quiet, I'll simply reply with, "I like being able to hear."

And when we put life on display as snippets of time, something great happens.

When the pieces are played, a rhapsody of the small emotions join together, 

and the snippets turn into a movement,

and the pieces make one flash back of the past feeling.

I never thought that someone could be on your mind 24/7... I mean how can a person be laced into you thoughts through the entire day? But it's happening to me... and I hate it. But sometimes it's good, when they are good memories of the person. I guess I'd rather her be in my thoughts than no where at all.

          I love 6am when it's a foggy mist. My brain isn't quite awake and the flowers are just uncurling. The sun shines strongly through the trees, only to be swallowed by the fog. Every time you breath you feel the cold run through your brain and down through you and it comes out warm, making a puff of life. It's quiet outside. You can hear the sparrows rustling in the bushes and the sound of your feet gracing the side walk. A settle wind pushes the fog across your flushed cheek and you have your hands in your pockets. It feels as if life has stopped for a second and that it's just you and nature. I would go insane without nature. I'd go insane without silence.  I like 6am, before I have to face the day.