I need you with me always or else never at all, for the leaving is too much to bear. There is only a single fixed point in this chaotic sea that is my soul, and that is love; a suffocating, drowning obsession with that which is near, near but not yet arrived.
     The death of me has vast brown eyes and a laugh that tastes like flight, and his smile is made of sun. I cannot breathe when he is away, nor when he presses his lips against my skin; I am breathless to the point of death, and it is as heavy as the whole of time condensed into the span of a few seconds.
     I want this suffocation or else nothing at all; this terminal lack of air or else the void of darkness that surely exists in death if a love like ours cannot endure.
     Hold my hand all the days of my life, or else never touch me again. I cannot bear this in between.