I don’t want to share this, but I’m on obvious a kick of being vulnerable today.

This is the closest I’ll come to candle light, significantly brighter than my burning out pilot light. Here’s what you do to me: you burn me brighter than I ever have before into a collapsing supernova, eventually in my (ec)static musings I burst from gravity and spit out 2^nd generation stars if I’m grand enough. How I could be is indefinite, you’re the single grandeur view of anything here, not me. I’m just the viewer of the kaleidoscope. Every bright color is only you.

Like with many things, my throat contracts. From your supposed guilt, from the things I want to share with you but assume you don’t want to hear, from the tears I repress and suppress on a too-common basis for a magnitude of mostly irrational reasons. I paint my world with your face because you promised me we could paint the future black—but what if I don’t want it black? Maybe I like orange today, maybe I want my own Sanctum to cry (in)to. I know I’ve always hated the color orange but now it seems right, so full of life. It’s youth, it’s love and passion, it’s first times which I’ve run out of, although you cause me to pretend everything is a first when it’s not a first for me, it’s a first for me with you. Relatively, that’s my first that matters, arrogantly and in layman’s laughable terms: what I see is relative, what I do not see does not exist.

Love is before and after this in love I have fallen. I want to take you with me.

            My perception of you is so easily warped because I so badly don’t want you to stray in any way. Can you relate to how troubling this could be? Do you ever irrationally wonder if I am out flying about with flocks of men, when you know I am at home self-confined to scientists in books? Perhaps not as wild, mine aren’t either. It’s just so easily to slip into the near-convincing state of myself that you don’t want me in an array of forms. But I never doubt that you care.

            How is April almost over when this is just when our lives began? Is the end nigh or are we on the horizon—not an event’s… I digress. If there was one person I’d stand at the precipice of the ad infinitum hole with, it is you and only you; beautiful.