Loving you is like breathing. I can’t stop and it’s necessary for my survival.
How much more of this can she take? She doesn’t have the answer for it and perhaps she never will. But if someone would ask her if she’d mind it, she’d look at them with a look of disbelief, as if the mere question was too idiot to be comprehended by the brunette. It was as if asking her ‘do you mind the love of your life constantly showing you through actions and words the immense amount of adoration, fidelity and downright pure love he has for you?’ and it’s plain obvious in her smile, in the look on her eyes, in the way her lips part to let out a slightly embarrassed and timid chuckle, the way heat rises to her cheeks, giving it a pink hue, and how she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear while moving her gaze down, unable to control a smile, in that way he knew she’d do whenever he’d say such beautiful words.
“Then never stop loving me and perhaps you and I can live forever.”












