My Love,

You are only sleeping. And though I dread the moment I must wake you from this slumber, I will not dread the first breath you take. I will not dread the flutter of your wings as you take flight, nor the piercing gaze of your steel eyes. I should only dread interrupting you, as you look so peaceful. All of your power cloaks your body with it’s warmth, just like a blanket, while even passersby know of your frailty. But fret not, my love, you are safe. I have failed you time and time again, but let your worries cease. When you wake . . . when the morning dew graces the leaves . . . when the sun shines white hot in the sky . . . My love you are new. You are pure. You will breathe again. I may have caused this immortal slumber, but I will see to its end.

-Death