Hearts, Stars, Horeshoes. She's got her clovers.

She reckoned she saw you putzing around the corner. Ya know? That one you always said good night to her on? Unfortunately things got far more complicated then. There weren't anymore moments where you two could stand in silence, staring at the stars, holding each other's hands. No, you made clean work of that. She settled out of you; she realized that she had been saved by everything you're not... and she sang because of it. I haven't heard her sing in ages. Step one, I suppose.

How could things possibly be all that bad as long as she had everything she wanted? She had her music, her books, her pen and paper. She had her comforts: her tea, her biscuits. Her friend always made her biscuits because she knew how much they were loved. You have no idea how even I love those things.

You had no part with her anymore. She loved you. She gave everything for you and you diced her. You hurt her more than she could comprehend. She wanted promise, you gave her pathetic fallacy. You don't belong to anyone. So she got over you. She's pressed her flowers and is now admiring their perfection on the page. There isn't one standing on the corner anymore, walking down the road to her house, starting at the blank windows.

Nope. She's ran her race and she's come smiling back to the finish line. She left you in her wake. She is stronger than you and the sooner you realize that, the easier it will be. Don't hold on. And for heaven's sake, don't visit that corner anymore.

She's good now. And I thank you.