You turned 24. You died at 23. Suicide. You used to left me a voicemail message, telling me how much you loved me. You died down the street from where we first really talked and got to know each other again after so many lifetimes of being apart. You promised me your blood, your fealty, your heart. I gave you everything I never had. I love you. Forever. I'll come to see you as soon as I shake loose this mortal coil. I love you. Goodnight.