She knows he's not hers, not solely, anyway. But it feels right, feels like he is, when he's this close, this deep under her skin.
"A chuisle? It means... my pulse. A chuisle mo chroí." Her voice gets very quiet, barely audible. "Pulse of my heart." Nobody will ever love you the way that I love you.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2010-07-02 09:53 pm (UTC)"A chuisle? It means... my pulse. A chuisle mo chroí." Her voice gets very quiet, barely audible. "Pulse of my heart." Nobody will ever love you the way that I love you.
She knows. And she makes her claim anyway.