green-eyed, I looked upon the picture of 5-year-old me, my covetous wit envies the smile draped all over her face. I adore how her eyes close as she grins with exhilaration. Her eyes twinkle as if someone had plucked the stars and held them within her.
Those eyes are not heavy; her gaze does not hide any tears.
She clenches her wrist to keep all that happiness within her.
A smile pleats her in every picture as she hugs her father tight, knowing within his arms, the ache and hardships of the world could not lay a finger on her.
Yet, there exists no picture of her mother holding her up in her arms, promising to give in all the love she could share; perhaps it has never happened,
Perhaps it never will happen.