See, I love like my arms are frayed rope. Thin fragments of stretched belief keep my body strung together, and the slightest tug will unravel my terrified soul. I love like my atoms are fickle subjects, and my heart is a weak king. I love like my body’s religion is instability, and I’m only waiting for my cells to dissolve in the fear that rushes through my veins.

You love like it’s a battle, your heart being the only true weapon that can wreak havoc. You allow desperate hopes and doubts slip from your lips like they will bloom in the air and find asylum in a being’s arms. You hold hands like you’re a savior, and your lover will drown without the strength of your grip. You love like your body dares to defy the laws of the world. You love like you commanded the stars to deliver this being to your embrace. His atoms were destined to meet yours. Destiny has yet to learn my name.

When our bodies pass and our atoms finally dissipate into the ravaged Earth, the only difference will be this. Your fragments will leave their place reluctantly; they have grown accustomed to thriving in spirited and loved body. My cells will break apart with ease; my body has always been ravaged with gaps and rifts and has long grown tired of holding together worthless fragments.