No, not yet.

.
.
No, she said.  A whisper to a sense other than the ears.  Heard, well, though.  I knew what she meant.  I could not comfort her.  I will here.  I think it will find it's way to her.  No, I agree, not yet.  Not by far.  Only a place I visit on the border between here and there, from time to time.  Much as when family visit their kin, where they are buried.  Only, it is myself, of other times, with whom I tarry.  No worries.  I am... well built.
She touched something, woke something inside.  Just... enough to... pacify doubts, fears.  Well, and to wake something that Cupid or Kāmadeva might ignite as well.  Celibate, friends, not dead, even when I visit that place.

Tenacious.  As I have written before.  Life is... good, right, worth the fight.

They can't steal what I couldn't throw away.  They will learn this.

Some mixed bag notions to ponder.

A moth to the flame?  Aye, maybe.  I may lose my wings, but that is required to remain in cahoots with another half.  While my wings cannot handle the flame, and for good cause, the rest of me can.  Truly.