riled up about love

I've gotten 4 recent emails. One was from a stranger and the other another poem from my ex.
I removed her name from above her photo to give some privacy, should she be reading this.
I loved her very much because she was 1 of the kindest people I ever met. I also understood her cause I've dealt with pain too. She was one of the most selfless people. She didn't own much and had no desire to. She was oh so gentle, oh so warm and oh so misunderstood.
She struggled. She had "fears". "What are you afraid of?", I'd say and she'd reply "of nothingness." Her hands were always warm, her eyes always dilated. Her pulse sped and her mind was always just short of complete breakdown.
She was opinionated. She could not have a boyfriend in dresses.Her mind couldn't accept or adjust to anything that seemed like a contradiction.
I remember her crying. In stores, anywhere, she'd pop on her sunglasses because so much Xanax over use caused her extreme photo-sensitivity. So badly, she began only going out at night. Without her sunglasses, the combination of dilated pupils and near sightedness made her vision distorted.
She liked dark, rainy days and really despised sunlight. She took less Xanax when days were dark and she felt more relaxed. She drank Coke all night and painted. In the day she became a very weak,helpless, hopeless and forlorn little thing.
Her emotional pain threshold was very low.
Anyway, she wrote me another poem filled with what seems like nostalgia for something she's lost. And I know she's still lost.
Honey, won't you pass the bottle,
you know we ain't talkin' perfume,
makes you think like Aristotle,
lets you fly up to the moon.
We could dance neath the thunder,
hear Mozart from the sea,
Do it without wonder,
with our ermine tea.
But no! You had to spill it,
It's spirit underground.
Spoilt the midnight rainbow,
the magic to be found.
If I could give this girl any gift in the world, it would be the feeling of safety in the sunlight.