The days are unkind to me, though nights and mornings with my Darling are all I’ve dreamt of upon waking, and ‘fore sleeping, beside her. She is night and morning, and my days are walkings, talkings, typings in her memory.
I love her. She rests beside me and I wish nothing more than to be as close as night allows. I want to be happy, with her, forever. That word crashes on my forehead/my conscience as though some great evictor of thoughts. I do not think this is a time; this is my life, and I shall own this with all of my strength, and, if I stumble, I shall rise, knowing she is there to kiss my wounds and beat me up to prove I’m more than able to crack a smile.