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You have swallowed me whole and left me a shadow of you. I hold you in the highest regard, I deign looking into your eyes for fear I might see myself, the lesser being.
How could you be both softer and harder than I am? Your being, essence and scent has woven itself deeply into the fabric of my being. If we were to part, I would forever carry you. The ghost of a memory I cannot part with. I wonder if I am held in the same regard? If I too have made myself a separate home in the depths of your soul-a being separate from me, a snapshot of the person I am when I am with you, a have-been, a never was. An idealistic version of myself, which is both softer and harder than you are, in a multitude of ways that you are not.
I long to tear away at the red cloth that blinds my eyes to your wicked allure, so enrapturing you are. You steal a smile with the mere sight of you. How I long to bottle the shape of your laughter, have it memorised and played again and again until my skin withers and peels, til my bone sags with the passing of time.
I wonder if I would stare down God for you. If I’d stare at the burning stake and walk headfirst into the inferno. Feel my skin simmer then burn, burn brighter than I ever thought possible. Would I close my eyes? Would the memory of your eyes set on mine,deep and all-knowing, not of the world but of me, my every edge, curve, dip and fall, would that sustain me? Would I live in the not-world people go into once they’ve given of each other, lost in the warmth of your gaze?
And why would he do this to me? To understand what it means to be loved? Does he long for the burn as much as I? Does he not know, love was meant to be unconditional?
Would you do that for me? Suffer the suffocating burden of loving another.
I want you to read this. To understand that which you have done to me-to comprehend what it means to be given the gift of speech. The emotions of which only great love-stories encompass.