Paint Me Back to Life by Eliza Bratt

She’s different now. 
I used to see her in chaos
The bustle of people on the street
The laugh of a child in the theater
The bark of a dog in a winter park
The hum of a car outside my window. 
Now I find her in silence 
In every frostbitten morning
In every sunrise of an autumn morn
In every second of quiet peace
In every blissfully calm moment
In every evening as the mountains hide the sun
In every night as the moon rises into the expansive blackness
There I find her
Waiting
Radiant in her white, enchanting glow
Her eyes fixed on me 
As mine on her
She smiles, and I feel a warmth 
I am light, and she is the calming darkness
I am blue, she is streaks of sunset orange 
I am fading, she is painting me back to existence. 
Back to Life.