To Them

If I could summarize what you mean to me, would be a crime I can’t bear, and mostly I would sound corny and distasteful, though yet it could bring you some satisfaction. Not for a moment I think out of the consequences or profit it would bring to me, because you’re more of a friend than anything else. But I’d like you to read this and feel special, for it’s not every time you encounter someone who truly appreciates your true beauty, so here I am feeling an unpleasant warmth in my chest about to collapse into a deep prosperous discourse in which I should end every doubt about how much I truly care.  

Your beauty is simultaneously natural and humane. Natural as in a flower petal that bursts from the ground, strong as the wind blows, sustained by the sun that nurtures your true face and originality, and as every encounter I have with nature is majestic and beautiful, it shines a light in one’s eyes, to be forever doomed by desire and tender emotion. Humane because your honesty and empathy could never lead me to sorrow, though is never enough to take one last look at you. 

Gaslights in the night, burning fingers as they are lit off, I would think that you’re much a person that is untouchable, but that is not practical, instead I say: that I can burn my on fingers so just to be accompanied by you, I shall ignore my feelings or by other means, my nature to consume and exhaust, to be by your side and if anything ever comes to happen, it must be in another life, when I’m no longer astounded by you, though in another way just happy that we ever met.