When I can bear the thought, I’m terrified of loving anything like you. Like all men there’s only so much strength I can bear in a woman and you have eyes everywhere, like the monsters in Johns Revelations. It’s a lie how desperately we want to known.

To have loved you and lost you must be enough to really scar a man, if not mark him like Cain, cursed to roam just beyond salvation. If you were bacteria I’d suffer you on half the population, they say you are your microbiome.

You affect me like hiccups, I can tell you a mile away but I’ll never get out of the way fast enough. Like the McEnnis chic your beauty is often fearfully monstrous to me. Be happy.