I have to tell you. I have to tell you that you mean everything. That there are billions of people on this planet, but ever since I met you, picking any one of them would mean settling. That I suck at remembering things, but every detail about you is sharp metal–your favorite band. Your favorite color. The reason for that scar on your forehead. How you can’t stand silence. That you are my favorite person to dance with, and my worst to see leave. That I want you, I want you, I will go through hell and back but dear God, I want you. And I can’t tell you.
Because my love is fire. It burns, and your body is too beautiful for such wounds. So I’ll smile politely, I’ll keep silent, and I’ll sacrifice–my soul for yours. My pain for yours. I have to tell you, but I refuse to hurt you. So instead, I’ll incinerate.