by Guest Sat Jun 04, 2011 2:02 pm
"Well, I rather take the cold. Yourself?" Gene said, and gave her the jar, while he took the blankets.
"I came out without magic, and I don't plan on using it now." Gene sighed, looking at Aimee.
"Anyway, this bitter cold was what I first thought when I saw you. But after knowing you, you are like the dew in the morning rain, pure. The sand in the desert, warm. If I placed you into a church, you wouldn't look out of place as an angel of love. You are the one that picks me up when I've fallen. You are the one to rise up and bewitch me. If I had a rose for every time I thought of you, I would be walking through my garden forever." Gene smiled, and suddenly held up a rose for her.
Wed May 21, 2014 2:20 am by Guest
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