The Mystical Stuff

This is a blurb from my current story:

“I don’t understand the mystical stuff,” he said pensively.

“I wasn't raised on fairy tales or fantasy. I don’t dabble in the mysterious or the haunting. I never believed in soul mates or that love is predestined. Yet, I can’t help this persistent feeling that no matter where you were in the world, and no matter where I was, even far away from you, that if anything happened to you, I’d know. Because you are so much more than just a girl. You are the smoke that curls and vanishes in the wind. You’re here with me now, but you could slip away at any second. You’re nothing like other people. You’re ethereal, a shadow of a human. You have the shape and form of a woman, yet, I fully believe that you are something else entirely. You are Victorian; you are haunting; you are beautiful. You are strong and fragile at the same time. I rest in your strength, yet I am hesitant to even hold your hand or stroke your face for fear that I might damage your perfect visage. If anything ever separated us, whether it was time or distance or death or another life entirely, I’d tear away at the fabric of time. I’d charge through the distance. I’d defeat death. I’d conquer life. Nothing could keep me from you. It’s a strange, strange magic, this power you have over me. But I've never felt or experienced anything like it in my life, and the more I have of it, the more I crave it. I dare say it will kill me in the end, but for today, I take it in like a sweet poison and I’ll never get enough."