I've yet to meet another human such as yourself,
All other that I came to love at some point in time came a dime a dozen. I knew it then, I know it now.

But those days where you held my hand sparks did not fly, no. Tectonic plates crashed within my veins, sending quakes straight into my aorta and stopped my heart until the day you kissed my nose, my innards grew from bone, skin, muscle. To bark, leaves, and flowers.
Not only did you revitalize the heart you stopped but made it something so much more beautiful, a bleeding heart, just like the ones that grew outside my window when I was little.

And when I learned the kind of person you chose over me after months of gentle sun and careful watering I felt my lungs collapse and all I want to do with these useless sacks is drown them with rocks and try to relive the rumbling you once put in them with the smallest of gestures that obviously meant so much more than meant, because to sleep at night I need to tell myself my love for you is a **** and will consume all if gone unrequited. But when our skin touches or when my eyes meet the gleaming grin of such a work of art I feel a black hole in my chest for this desire will swallow up my stars and I want to never love again because you are the end game, my end game.