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“I love you, and I have loved you, and I will love you,” he whispered, hoarse, tortured. My throat ached. “I love you, and I have loved you, and I will love you.”
Because that’s the thing about humans—we leave traces of our souls everywhere, as unique and identifying as fingerprints.
All this texture made them so endlessly interesting, made me want to run my fingers over every inch so that I could explore it, understand it. Unravel it.
“Do you know how powerful that is? Do you know how rare you are, in a world where the sky rains fire?”
“Though, without you, there would be no poetry. I would have only the harsh lens of my own worldview. I wouldn’t be able to see the beauty of life, because I only see it through your eyes. Muse is too simple a word for what you are to me.”
but a thousand years in this world had taught me that we only truly exist in relation to the ones we love.
No matter how many lives I lost, no matter how many families moved on without me, I would always be known by Arden. Perhaps he was my true homeland; our existence a language only we could speak.
