It isn’t fantasy—
my love will bleed
through every decade still waiting.

I will beg the gods,
or whoever keeps count,
to let me breathe
just long enough
to love you longer
than all the years
I wasted before you.

It’s the only prayer
I’ve ever meant—
desperate, selfish, unashamed—
the only truth worth whispering
into this one, beautiful,
fucked-up life.

“Bless upon me every strength
to honor you—
not fearing to die alone,
but dying to live,
hand in hand.”

—

i always enjoyed your company.