Beloved,
I am so far from your morningfire. I am so long from the cotton touch of your sunrise breath. Across my face is struck a silver pang, which hopes to remember you. We have been too long away from your gold stroke on my heaving spine. I love you. I know I have said it before. I know I have said it so many times. But the wonder of the turning is because of her insistence, not in spite of it. The wonder that despite every catastrophe, we edge still towards infinity. Every morning the sky crows. Every morning the crack of light slashes through the veil of our mystery whispers into the crackle of the speakerphone. They say there is a disease of the heart that burrows in when one is too far from the sea - too gone from the great gravitational center of earthly life. I have been flung - from the surface of the world, my broken parts swirling into a mass of white stone distance. Face of the lesser-light. I swear with my all of my heaving, I will pull you closer to me every moment that I can. I promise gravity will carry to you my holding. I promise I am for your momentary eternal. And I promise the same thing as always. Wires will connect us when we are so far apart. I love you forever.
[ID: A mid-2010s era iPhone interface where the icons have been modified to have the face of Nyancat. /end ID]