You are the love of my life.
You are always there for me.
Even when this universe seems to crash against another and the cosmic explosion tears a rift down my reality.
You take me to other worlds. Undreamed of, unheard of. New worlds. Exciting worlds.
You blossom when I am alone with you. Nothing else except you and me.
You come to life when I plaster you down onto paper and give you a leaden, penciled kiss.
You are the bright fire that stokes my soul when all around darkness lies.
You’re there when no-one else is. You’re there when I’m sad. You speak to me of the suffering of phantoms. Of aliens. Of inanimate objects. Of misery in another dimensions. You string all these characters around me for commiseration, and I feel better.
If I were to lose you, my life would be empty.
My heart would be empty.
My soul would be empty.
My brain would be empty (literally).
Existence would lose all colour. I would become the walking dead. I would miss your whispers. Your kisses. Your caresses.
You won’t ever leave me, will you? After all, you are a part of me, more than you will ever know.
You can’t leave me. Unless my television intake increases and I become a brainwashed zombie and neglect you. Unless I go under the knife and get a lobotomy and I forget you.
I know we will have a wonderful, long life together.
I hope we have lots of babies in the future. Book babies. Story babies.
We’ll rock together on the front porch, watching the sunset.
We’ll cradle in the warmth of each other when my body takes its last breath.
You’ll whisper bony secrets to me and my dying lips will rasp back.
And once I am gone, you must leave. You will grieve. You will cry.
But then you will move on. A vaporous exit from out my ears. You will feel happiness again.
You will flit inside another’s skull.
A new relationship.
A new beginning.
And again and again.
For all eternity.