She was like the sunrise.

Have you ever laid in bed on a Saturday morning and the sheets felt so cool against your warm body, that you laid there a little longer?

She was the sheets.

Do you remember the way your first kiss tasted and the butterflies erupting inside of your soul?

She was the lips.

Have you ever heard a song, and it was unfamiliar, but something about the lyrics made your body feel as though it was on fire?

She was the writer and composer.

She was the stardust that spits embers of fire into your darkness.

She was Nevada.

Rocks of red, which you played out your most intimate fantasies within.

Fields of flowers spread wide as you laid your soul and body bare beneath willow trees.

She was existence.

You know when you're really thirsty,

and ice cold water hits your lips?

She was refreshing.

She had a way about her.

You know your favorite song?

The one that you have probably heard countless times, but it never gets old?

She was the melody.

She was everything.

But let's not forget to talk about what she wasn't.

She wasn't vengeful.

She wasn't quick to anger.

She wasn't selfish.

She also wasn't fearless.

You thought she was before you really truly knew her soul, but she wasn't fearless.

She was scared.

Scared of losing you.

Scared of losing herself.

Scared of losing control.

She wasn't unwavering strength.

Not that anyone could tell by looking at her,

but you'd seen her fall apart.

Heck, you'd made her fall apart.

You had also placed her pieces back together.

She was soft and gentle.

She was firm and brave.

She was music.

She was art.

She was poetry.

She was every word of every poem that you'd ever written

and she had found her way into every poem you'd ever read.

Even better, though...

Even more beautiful than every bright light she was to the world...

The reason you breathed?

The reason why her existence had become the very stitch of the tailored life you had built?

She was yours.

And that, that made her everything.