I have loved you for lifetimes and more -
we have been through many incarnations,
traveled many timelines and shed many
sacrificial tears and unnecessary pretense.
You have bore your soul in mine,
entwined our fates in loving motions,
and sealed our future in simple kisses.

I love you through realms of dreams
and into stark rains of reality,
through all that is to come
and all that is before,
and I know you love me
the same.

When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
    Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
    And in our faults by lies we flattered be.