Sometimes it's better to not predict the ending of the story. Even when you can guess the last couple of pages.
Don't ruin this, because there's only original sin to turn back to at square one.
I treat everything with the belief of happily-ever-after, and if love is surrender, then who's war is it anyway?
I need to live how I breathe - there will always be a next. No matter how short of breath I may be.
Just like the silent tides, my chest will continue to rise and fall. A wick is always capable of being relighted, or burnt to the ground.