I want to give to give you chopped up rose petals. I want to fondue myself in expired chocolate. I want to pour candle wax all over your heart, and let it drip down to ends of your toes. I want to set you alight on the inside and wrap you in the fire blanket quilted from flaws and failures. I want to be grotesque, ugly, vile, disgusting, and loathsome; because if you call me handsome, I will dig fingernails into your back deeper than thorns could ever scrape. If you call me sweet, I will taste more and deeper of you than any critic could hope to describe. If you say I light up a room, I will pick up the hot coals you walk on and sear my name into your bedroom wall to ward them off. If you call me a warm relief, I will make an addict out of you and an addiction out of adoration. If you call me tomorrow, I will call you forever. If you call me “forever,” I will call you “tomorrow.” I want you to hate me, because if you don’t I will love you essence deep and existence far.