I am in a love affair with the sun.
It is a light and gentle love.
Like two teenagers who don’t quite know how to feel the consuming weight of lust, the sun and I don’t quite know how to love each other with all the light that lies between us.
Like all of the best love stories, we always reach a fervor in the summer. The sun likes to kiss my skin– leaving light peppered marks of golden stars across my body, like road maps to the heavens, like photographs of his universe.
I can’t look at my love for too long. He shines too brilliantly and while my eyes have always been strong, they are not invincible. Sometimes I wonder if he feels the same way, and that is why he must always leave me, until morning.
Our love is a deep love.
We are cut from the same cloth. My love is a star and I am made up of shards and fractions of star dust from times long ago. We need each other to survive. If we were ever parted, my soul would burst into flames.
But a love like that is never fair. It is fierce and it is passionate and it is reckless.
But it is not fair.