Did you ever think you could touch fire and never get burned, sleep on a platter of ice and never feel cold. I could ask myself the equivalent. The night that we met, we consented to turn the hourglass. We consented to begin the clock on a period neither one of us at any point truly needed to end.

You cherished my imaginative side, my eagerness to impart my dimness to the world, continually planning to exchange my evil spirits for a tad of light.
I adored your mystique. The manner in which you could make me feel like the most critical individual in the room, notwithstanding when I was certain I never
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