Letting it out

Dearest darling beautiful wonder of my world,

I just want to tell you that you are significantly more fabulous than any sunset; more inspiring than all the heroes who ever lived; more awe-inspiring than any Seven Wonders.

I only want you to know that you are air and water and fire and earth to me; you are the food and drink and breath of my life. Without you everything will grow dim for me on this planet, and I will have no reason to stay. No one really relies all that much on me.

I could disappear. You would go on; you would never even miss me; it would be as though a draught were stopped up and no longer nagging at a corner of your mind. Somehow, and this sickens me and shames me no end, you feel nothing of the longing and love I feel for you. If you have ever felt it, it has never been for me.

See, that is one thing about this mortal coil that I find unbearable: those for whom I feel the greatest passion simply do not return it. It hurts most when it is you, for I have never in all my life felt feelings as powerful as those I feel for you: sun and moon; galaxy; universe. Every cell of me aches and contracts and expands in a rapture of longing and thirst and hunger for you; all for you; only for you.

The world is barren and dusty and bare and dark without you; and there is nothing I can do about it.