CXXVIII

"I love you" is still a startling sound, even after all these years. When it comes from your lips, it is. When your eyes don't leave my face, it is. When your hands won't stop. I love you too. Even when my lungs give out from the weight of it all upon me, I do. I love you still.

XCVIII

“I love you,” she whispered, without a hint of doubt or shadow of regret.

“I love you, I do.”

“I love you more than I have words to say; more than there are words to say.”

“To the ends of my being, and with every stumbling beat of this gentle heart…”

And now she stopped, and caught her breath, and put down her pen.

“I love you,” she whispered, with the utmost certainty, and tore every one of her precious words apart.

Because loving isn’t enough, and loving will never be enough.

Love was her escape, and Lord knows it couldn’t last misuse in that way.

First, to face her demons, and then, to love…

“I love you,” she whispered, “… I love you. But loving you just isn’t enough.”

[Images via Pinterest]