Mostly I dream about being with you forever.

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously. I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth. "I'm trying to figure out what you are."

You want me to be all doom and gloom, or just shut up?

Just snow and sapphire and ink.

It's real interesting to have a soul as a friend, and it makes me feel super special that I've managed it.

Will you be?” I asked, suddenly anxious. “Will you really be here?” “As long as you want me,” he assured me. “I'll always want you,” I warned him. “Forever.