Words feel deficient in the ability to convey my love to you. It would take a lexicographer years to define this love in its entirety. You are my vocation and every day I sit at my desk and work. My tasks consist of introspection, recreating your image from memory, and archiving your existence because it is historically significant. I look for any excuse to be close to you. Your beauty is like a miracle, as if by god so I may believe. Disoriented thoughts and stuttered speech are symptoms of your presence. You are the active ingredient to my relief. I could collect everything you touch as though they’re the finest of treasures. The reception of your embrace made warmth feel like a first encounter. Your casual laughter and voice is a reference for all makers of musical instruments. Your proximity alters my perception of time, making it pass slowly when we’re distant and too quick when we’re close. I am in a state of mental disorder as normal functions are impaired by uncontrollable and reoccurring thoughts of you. I could see when even the slightest worry has come to your mind. Your association with me is a demonstration of your humility. You better my behaviour and judgement. I want to take care of you — enough to also make up for even your past experiences with neglect. I solemnly swear to defend you from others, and myself. Separately you and I make two wholes — but our union makes us a phenomenon, like the inosculation of two trees. If my words are considered poetry, then I credit you as the author, because it is you who guides me to them. My ambition is to publicise this text, so my feelings for you are renewed with each time it is read. I’ve stapled it onto utility poles throughout the city. I’ve vandalised by pasting large prints onto building walls. I love you. Everything outside of us seems an interruption because my love continues without pause. And if a moment comes that I no longer love you, it will be because I’ve died and my legacy is that I loved you. I apologise if I’ve insulted you with any praise that lacks the excellence in which you merit. You are so inspiring, I believe you could make the most unskillful artists rival the old masters. I will continue to practice because you are so undeniable, that if you were captured in the hands of a talented artist, you would live forever.