You are being written about here for the last time, this sentence is one big long full stop.

I'm glass and I'm tumbling through space. Not in the sense of a lack of something, in the sense of planets and stars and beauty.
Anyway, I'm glass and I'm tumbling through space, and below me, miles below me, I can see the Earth.
And I fall through the atmosphere, the unimaginable cold of nothingness being tempered with intolerable heat as I burn up. But I don't change, I remain. Glass.
Now I'm in the sky, still falling, and a panic builds in my legs and works its way up to my head and down my arms, but at the same time I'm panicking, I'm unafraid because I know I'm going to shatter, and its the knowing that makes it okay. It feels like I'm falling ever so slowly too, I don't know why though.
I hit the ground and I smash into a million tiny pieces and there's not even a dent in the ground where I've fallen but it's okay because this is what I hear as my glass head, and my glass ears, and my glass brain becomes nothing more than dust. Sharp little snowflakes in the air, blowing across a field which has taken a life that was only ever glass to begin with and there's no sign anything ever happened here and I think I'm fine with that, I really do so be happy for me.

I don't know about others, maybe it comes easy, but for me the journey from liking someone to actually doing something about it takes a hell of a lot out of me. I get tired, I get ill, I get all sorts of things going on that I don't like having to deal with, but force myself through because of what they might be for.

In that sense, I suppose you could say I'm all kinds of naive. To wreck yourself for a chance of happiness, or to be more accurate, and as I've mentioned before, just being not unhappy. It's not like I'm blackened all the time, ok, it's more like theres a lightbulb flickering above my head and if I could just jump up high enough to knock it and make it stay on, that would be perfect and (haha) everything would be illuminated.

(If you got that, it means nothing major, it's just a stupid private-ish joke that presented itself.)

Anyway, this is just to get out through my fingertips how I've already done this once this summer; how I've already harvested all of the energy and patience I had as far as love is concerned (for a nothing of my own choosing, I will add), and now that the seeds have grown into something once more, how much I'm not going to like the decisions I'm now going to have to make.

Open up your mouth, breathe the night into my home
Let my words be bombs, dropping silently across your heart.
Let this room be our canvas, our Guernica, our warzone
Let your touch be the colour, let our bodies be each other's art.

You will know me by the fact I am on fire for you.

Speak these words aloud so they may take up space in the air in your room, and then imagine that the shapes they make are my arms, around you.