She Was Mine

She was mine.

She used to bounce cheerfully around the area, bringing smiles to every pony in the room.

She was joy.

The sound of her hoof steps approaching me made my heart leap, for only I knew how I felt about her. Her voice could scare away all of my troubles, and leave a smile on my expression, as she did with the others. But only mine was a starstruck one.

She was love.

She threw parties for each and every new resident to the town I resided in, whether they were pony or not. She did so for me, a long, long time ago. I feel that I was wronged for brushing her festivities aside...despite all of that...

She was fun.

She was the one who made my brain melt as she did what no other pony could, predicting both pratfalls and alligators in bathtubs.

She was confusing.

She had a smile unlike any other, which sometimes even seemed to stretch her cheeks wide. It could even pull some of the most gruff ponies out of their dark facade, or get somepony who had just lost everything, to smile too. But her smile made my knees weak. Regardless, I tried to smile back anyways.

She was kind.

Her body was incredibly lean, and perfectly toned. Though she ate copious amounts of sugar and sweets, her teeth remained unstained, being a perfect pearl white all the time. Her mane curled and bounced upon itself, giving the impression that even her hair wanted to have fun with her. Her glimmering cyan eyes never met mine for long, but I always relished every second that they did.

She was absolutely beautiful.

She was the one who one day walked up to me, asking if we could talk. She had stammered, until eventually those eyes looked up at me, pleading. They quickly shut after that, and I felt a soft pair of sugary lips pressing up against mine. It only lasted 3.42 seconds, but it was enough.

She was passion ponified.

She was so apologetic, pulling away and apologizing. Her cheeks had been the most unflattering shade of red, as she spoke the fastest that she ever had, hoping to redeem herself. Those deep cyan eyes brimmed with liquid as she went.

She was innocent.

She was the one who only eagerly responded as I walked up to her, and drew her into an embrace. She had silenced her words, instead squeezing me tighter. I did not know, but I could have sworn that her smile grew bigger.

She was delicate.

She was the one who I loved, and she was the one who loved me back. She was the one who released herself from my grip, and gazed at me with those eyes.

She was hesitant.

She drew in a breath, the smile worming out onto her face yet again as she did so. She was the one who spoke the most wonderful words I'd ever heard: "I love you, Twilight."

She was mine.

She was the one who from then on lived with me, always brightening a day with her energy, her jokes, or simply her silent smiles.

She was as sweet as the candy that she ate.

She was the pony who lay by me on a quiet night, as I rest my head on her shoulder. A lone hoof resting around me, she would do nothing but breathe ever so slightly, and stare silently into the beyond. Intervals found us gazing at each other, smiling warmly.

She was kind.

When I came back from my long trips to Canterlot, she was waiting with a huge smile, and a hug. Her breath smelled of cotton candy almost all the time, and her body was warm. It was soft, and each hug seemed to feel just as good, if not better than the last.

She was enjoyable.

She was the pony who comforted me when I lost a friend. I wept for hours over her accident, which had been over a silly little trick. Even through hours, she held me tight as I whimpered still, whispering reassurances that weren't true, but still helped.

She was caring.

She was one who never failed to throw a party, or to chatter for weeks on end. But the silent moments were when she was best, allowing her inner beauty to show.

She was amiable.

She was the pony who, on a complete whim, would even bake me cupcakes, and we would both sit, relishing every bit of those pastries.

She was a baker.

She was the one who followed me through life, and entirely unexplainably, she passed away in her sleep. She still smiled, even in death, and my heart had done a nosedive when I saw what she clenched to her chest.

It was none other than a plush effigy of myself, of which I'd never even seen.

She was Pinkie Pie.

Even now, as I tiredly write this, my favorite quill dragging across this very paper, I still feel her love. She was joy, love, fun, confusing, kind, absolutely beautiful, passion ponified, innocent, delicate, hesitant, as sweet as the candy she ate, enjoyable, caring, amiable, and a baker.

She was Pinkie. She was my one and only, the one who I loved, and her, I. She loved me even through her old ages, and my own.

I'm the only one left. All of my other friends have blown away, leaving holes in my heart that almost nopony can replace. But Pinkie Pie was that pony, she was the best mare I'd ever met. You can probably tell from the tear stains on this page.

But most importantly, she was mine. Pinkamena Diane Pie was mine, the pink pony who always smiled and never had time for a frown. The partying parader who could throw an entire town a party found time to love a little, naive pony like me.

It will come time to close my eyes soon. They will not open in Equestria, however-instead they will open in the promised land, where me and my friends can once more hop and play, no more burdened by the chains of age. Friendship is magic, but it is also forever.

I will be able to gaze once more into her eyes. And she will be mine, and I will be hers.

But until then, only four things matter.

I was hers.

I was theirs.

I was happy...

But...

She was mine.

A/N:What if Dimondium contracts insomnia?

He writes a one hit.

Thoughts?