I adore you for your destruction, your cleverness and your wild, untameable soul. What a magnificent work of art you weave. What beautiful poetry you leave, wherever you go, on everything you touch, without ever requiring a word. My darling you have more depth in your surfaces than most carry in their entire beings.
I’m saying that if you emptied all that you are, it would drown the earth, all of it, like a spectacular glittering ocean of fierce and undeniable magnificence.

But you are just short of unfathomable, your layers not quite infinite. I have been down into your darkness and I have discovered its secrets. Underneath the mystery of you lies a shyness and quiet, there’s a softness there –– a bodiless sadness.
And it is here, amidst all this empty space, that I see stars. It is here, where I have fallen entirely and cruelly, unmanageably in love.

Playing With Fire — Beau Taplin