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my love will never change and we've ruined everything
It's often difficult for me to justify my place here. Though this seems to be the case with most people.
On that note, virtually all difficulties are commonplace. This is maddening.
Enter.
Good morning, love, say it with a smile and she expects nothing but the same quiet caress that was her first waking touch each morning for as many days as she could remember.
The number of days she could remember, to be exact, was one. Not even one; it is barely nine in the morning. Nine twenty seven, to be exact; this one had overslept.
But you did not know, did you, love. Not a care in the world, no thoughts to cloud her mind and dim her smile, her beautiful, unpretending smile as she gazes up with innocent eyes open.
Do you know me, love?
A moment's uncertainty, push her blond hair aside, out of her eyes, eyes that glisten black in morning light from the open window. Black, why black, this was the first and unexpected.
Never mind, love, it is nothing, nothing at all. You are mine, and you are safe.
Nine twenty eight, thirty eight seconds, to be exact, and she has served her purpose.
Sleep now, love, and dream of nothing.
Return.
This being the second such item having no impetus, I'm going to start writing. Or attempt to, try to take a few lines and describe a scene, a moment. Not tell you everything, but trace enough pieces so as to give you an idea of the whole. Or at least enough for you to fill in the rest yourself. I'm not very good at this, give me some time.