More.

I don't want to be a word; an adjective, nor a comma.

I don't want a hyphen at the end of my sentence.

The lazy, blue-white gradient of the sky is what I want on my tombstone. 

When you think of me, I want the sunburst within a green iris to cross your mind-because that's what I always loved about you.

I want the electric surge of anticipation and joy that runs through me when I look at you to be my auto-biography.

If, when you think of me, blank words and run-on sentences overwhelm your mind, I might as well die right now. 

Without a sound.