Oh. Here's such an odd place to be in, love
In love with you, that is.
Again. Or still. Always maybe.
You're warm and safe, blankets piled on a bed at night in the winter, stubborn and irritating, irrational and cruel. Loving and gentle and excited, comfort and excitement each in turn and I don't know anyone else I'd rather spend days on.
I want and I need,
kissing laughing ******* loving needing exhausting
you
You've come back again and again and have we really only been speaking less than two years?
Me without you. There's a thought.
Me without you. Fighting and fearing and accepting it over and over and -
Can you keep a secret?
I can live without you.
I learned how. I had to learn how.
But oh, I don't want to. I don't want that life.
Safer yes, warmer perhaps, emptier certainly.
No one wants what's ordinary and comfortable for long after they've loved adventure.
Bilbo with his mountains, Odysseus with his sea
I'll take your fire, I think