She came into my life like a bright morning dawn. My first friend, my first love. Hair as pale as when the sun peeked over the clouds, shyly saying hello to the world. We were inseparable as the sun and the earth, always together, never apart. We lit up each others lives in a wash of bright colors, with no dimming of our light in sight.
Over time, we grew to be more of a noonday pairing. We shone as bright as before, but now the light was constant. It wasn’t shy, nor fading. It was a loud herald, an announcement when we walked into the room, blinding everyone with our intensity. We were twin stars caught in a state of perpetual glow, two suns that would never set. Her laugh was like a supernova, a sudden explosion of joy making the world ten times brighter, searing itself upon me. So bright, it blinded me as well.
Then there was our sunset. Her sunset, in fact. I never thought our light would dim, that we would be a bright noon pairing. But she only saw me in the blues and grays and dusky purples of night, where I saw her in the bright reds and vibrant pinks that paint the skies bright, illuminated by a spiderweb of pale gold. Our light began to dim as the sun set behind the hills, and her supernova laugh was no longer for me alone. Her bright colors and brilliant light no longer bathed me in warmth, but left me cold and wanting, acutely aware of what I missed.
And then it was night. Cold, dark, lonely night. The stars were now my only company, and their night was not like hers. She was a star of warmth, and life, and pure happiness. These stars were as bright, not a cold light. They came and went and sometimes flickered with a hint of vibrancy, but always inevitably flickering out. The night was dark and unending, slowly but surely creeping in to fill the space I kept open. Her bright warmth was no longer there to keep the space open, leaving a gaping hole by my side. And so the night came crashing in, a void as empty and alone as my heart.