I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for religion - I have shuddered at it. I shudder no more - I could be martyred for my religion - Love is my religion - I could die for that - I could die for you.
It feels cruel. Something in me isn’t ready to let go of summer so easily. To destroy what I’ve carefully cultivated all these months. Those pale flowers might still have time to fruit.
Did I live with you in a past life? Was I your lifelong partner? Is that why the idea of losing you torments me so much? How long have I been without you?