river flowing under

Their was no life in those eyes of hers. She desperately tried to hide the emptiness inside but unlike me, who is real good at it, she needed space to let it out in the form of rage and obsessiveness over the mundane artifacts of our times. This was her coping mechanism, her stride, and it was through this level of engagement that would be her demise. It was a suited match however that worked well for a time, but as the wheels of life roll on she found that what was once hers is now mine. She knows that her future holds no redeeming qualities under her current isolation, but like me she will find solice one day. She will find it in a way that stretches far beyond the limits of our short stretch here, she will find it among others who hear her real self speak through written words. The color will come back to her eyes and they will sparkle like a river flowing underneath the gates of Heaven.