She looked out to the shimmering, rippling water, and she said it. The wind flying through her hair, the sand whipping up to meet her delicate face. She winced, and then her eyes turned to glass. I saw the reflection of a monster in her eyes as her calm, scratchy voice whispered "I love you." I grabbed her hand, and I walked her to the water. I kissed it, and I swam. I swam because I was scared, and I swam because I didn't want to break her. Her body a perfectly curved vase, the product of two terrible souls, so beautiful. I wanted to hold her like a fragile newborn. But instead I dove into the water, and grasped the last breath I ever expected to breathe with everything I had. During that breath I saw a small child in her arms. I saw myself in slow motion, holding her waist. I saw myself breathing quietly down her neck as the corners of her mouth began to turn towards the sun. I saw that I wasn't going to hurt her, because I loved her too. My lungs collapsed and fell under the weight of my beating heart. I looked up, the air so close and yet so far. The moon shining down onto me, dying in the water. A hand stroked the back of my neck, and I felt her there in that final moment. The final moment of my blindness. I suddenly burst through the water and kiss her. Our tongues dancing to and fro in perfect harmony. She bit down slowly on my lip, and I held her. I squeezed her so tight, because she was no longer something I could break, but something that was broken. Something in the way I held her fixed everything in an instant. It was like I had been holding her out over a ledge, threatening to hurt her. Finally I dropped her, but it wasn't her who hit the cold ground. It was me. How was I ever dumb enough not to love her the way I do now?