When I Write A Story, It's Not

You Live A Thousand Lives When You Read A Thousand Books.

Isabella Swan?” He Looked Up At Me Through His Impossibly Long Lashes, His Golden Eyes Soft But, Somehow, Still Scorching. “i Promise To Love You Forever—every Single Day Of Forever. Will You Marry Me?” There Were Many Things I Wanted To Say, Some Of Them Not Nice At All, And Others More Disgustingly Gooey And Romantic Than He Probably Dreamed I Was Capable Of. Rather Than Embarrass Myself With Either, I Whispered, “yes.” “thank You,” He Said Simply. He Took My Left Hand And Kissed Each Of My Fingertips Before He Kissed The Ring That Was Now Mine.

He Raised His Hand, Hesitant, Conflict Raging In His Eyes, And Then Swiftly Brushed The Length Of My Cheekbone With His Fingertips. His Skin Was As Icy As Ever, But The Trail His Fingers Left On My Skin Was Alarmingly Warm - Like I'd Been Burned, But Didn't Feel The Pain Of It Yet.

Inspiration In Desperation.

The Outside World Holds No Interest For Me Without You." -edward