Howl does not sit still for long enough to contemplate much,
because magic lies within his bloodstream,
pricking at his skin as if he'll explode if he doesn't keep moving;
it is a small miracle, that he has been married to Sophie
for three glorious years;
the old Howl uses and throws away people like trash
but the man in love
remembers to cherish the woman who stayed by his side.
She is the kind of woman no one forgets
for the impression she leaves, one with the
tranquility of blooming flowers
yet the intensity of a monsoon,
she is truly a diamond in the rough,
and Howl would be some kind of utter fool to stay away.
The gentle way she carries herself
sends Howl into a dizzying spiral of adoration;
All he wants to do is hold her tight,
stroke her hair,
and trot her around the world
to proclaim his love.
(This is why
Sophie hardly ever leaves Howl alone:
he is too much of a handful
and he will start grand, ambitious projects
only to leave a mess around the house.)
Their marriage lasted for three years
and Howl is still so much in love with Sophie
It hurts his very core,
Mere mortal words cannot describe
how he feels
so he doesn't speak of it much
even though this adoration
lives within him, a fiery intensity of romantic attatchment,
that he wants to cry
and Sophie tells him
to stop being so frivolous,
which is her way of saying
"I'm glad we're married, you oaf,"
and he likes it that way.