“Oh love. I believe this horrid universe has always been against me,” I say quietly as he kisses my neck. He looks at me with those wise, unscathed, blue eyes. “Not if you’re still alive.” He always ruins my perfectly poignant illusion of unending sorrow, but I can’t ever fully express how much pure placidity that fact brings to me.
A kind of radiant, alien energy emanates from his aura that immobilizes me; there is always a spiritual warming that occurs when in his presence. I wish that there was a clearer way of explaining his divinity, but alas he is unfathomable. No one has ever caressed my cheek and made me feel the bliss that enlightens me the way he does.
As we drink in each other’s unnaturally devout love, I breathe in his soul, and I know that he is the only one that can adore me this veraciously. He makes it feel as though I have been carried to the highest heaven; the fear of what I will do to myself if I ever fall from this place is dreadful. Our souls are intertwined eternally; he is my life.