Nothing lasts. Not these walls. Not these things that fill my house. Not the victories I think I’ve won. Even the wonder of spring. Even the stars. Maybe even time itself.

Only my love for you.

Everything breaks; most notably my heart – which seems, at any moment, ready to burst into flames. Everything stops. Even breathing.

Only my love for you.

How beautiful things are. How wondrous this passing. What joy these ruins. There is no sorrow here, no shred of regret.

Only my love for you.