“When he speaks into my hair, it is barely a whisper. 'Willow, it's never too late. And there's always a way to begin again.”
“Soundlessly whispering into the void, my lips moving quickly, silently, without ceasing. Calling his name, calling him to me.Even though there's no use.Even though it's futile.Even though it's way past too late.”
“When my death us do partThen shall forgiven and forgiving meet again,Or will it be, as always was, too late?”
“It's never too late...so you live again.”
“Al pulled me into him, and numb, I felt his arm curve possessively about my waist. “Too late,” he whispered, his breath shifting the hair about my ear, and we jumped.”
“It's never too late to change, it's never too late to heal.”