Had We But World Enough, And Time

Honey, I love you. I can think of a lot of different ways to say it, but they all seem like gilding the lily. Every day, you're the one I get out of bed with, the one I think of when you're away, and the one person who has done more for me in the short time that we've been together than just about anybody else on this planet. Please don't think that you could ever mean less than that to me, okay?
I'll get over this. I'll get up on my feet, I'll face another day, and maybe I'll get better. I can't promise anymore because I don't know what the future holds. I only know that if I have any say in the matter I'll always be right here, with you. I want more than anything to have a future with you. I won't say too much about all the things I dream of for you and me, because so many of them are probably impossible that it just gets me all choked up for no reason. I want those things with you so badly, y'see, even if I can't have them.
You asked me not to give up on you. I can only ask the same thing in return, even though it's probably a lot bigger job for you. I know I'm difficult. I know I'm a giant pain in the ass. I know that I make you worry over things that I could just quit doing and save us both some trouble. I'm sorry about that, and I hope that you'll come to see in time why I'm like that and maybe be able to forgive me.
I sure hope so, anyway. Because, like I said, I love you.

Title from the first line of "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell.