There are so many theories about what happens after we die. Of all of those, reincarnation scares me the most because it would mean we inevitably take separate paths at some point. I have been wondering for a while now if we could make a special petition asking God to spare us from brilliant pearly gates, and allow us to roam beautiful sunny meadows alongside each other side for all of eternity. Tell me, my love, does the spellbinding possibility of such a promising afterlife existing—as slight as it may be—overwhelm you with unearthly happiness the way that it does for me?

I find heaven with you, and I truly hope that the Gods do not notice we have sneaked into their territory because they would cast us down in a split second. These bones of ours were not built to survive such a paralyzingly fall, so for the sake of this little paradise we have risked everything for, let us please remain quiet.

There is a certain kind of passion that raises the bar. When and if your time with the person who takes you beyond the sky ends, you will spend the rest of your life searching for someone who can shake the earth underground simply by standing in the same place as you. But unless you are caught by surprise and something significantly stronger arrives, your soul is bound to never be completely satisfied. This, my dancing sunshine, is how I will know that you were surely the one.

It has been a while since you left to search for something better, to explore your options. When the crumbling sound of your heart shattering fell on deaf ears tonight, I heard it hundreds of miles away. Now that it's much too late, you understand the thing you search for is what you thoughtlessly abandoned. The star we entrusted our life with assures me you are spending the night remembering my face, my touch, my presence. It has not spoken to you ever since you chose to deny its existence, but I assure you I am pensively gazing at it this very moment, wondering if you realize that I would have loved you forever.

"For the sake of sparking a conversation, allow me to speak of love. Love is many things, and it is such a diverse and unfathomably complex topic. In fact, it is so complex that its complexity simplifies the complex. As a child I spent most of my lonely nights not whispering confessions to the stars as I do now, but thinking about the afterlife. Frankly, I am not certain what terrified me most; the possibility that death is the permanent cessation of a person's consciousness, or the possibility that there is a heaven and hell. If the first answer is correct, then this life must be meaningless since when we die we return to the same place we were before being born, right? If the second answer is correct, then am I worthy of joining this so-called heaven everyone is extremely anxious to join? Am I damned to burn for all of eternity only because I use my brain to do what it was given to me for? I was the kind of kid who grew up asking why and never accepted anything as truth unless I dug deeper. Believing every word inside a book written by man without questioning--without searching within me to see if its truths align with mine--conflicts with my curious nature. I have always thought for myself. Once I reached high school, I was stressed by the fact that my future is uncertain, and that it might very well be a bleak one if I refuse to switch lanes. A select few understand that as a poet, living recklessly is not only necessary for my art, but it is all I know. Once I found true love--the kind that blooms in pitch-dark rooms--everything seemed to melt away. As healthy or unhealthy as this mentality may be, I felt and strongly feel that love can save me from life, death, and everything in between. Can it really do so? Probably not, but a deceitful illusion covered in fine honey is undoubtedly better than a cruel reality reeking of ignorance, hate, and division. The meaning of life is to give life meaning, and to live and die for love is the meaning I have decided to give it."

"I'm convinced you are the one for me."

"This isn't the first time you say so."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again."

"One time is enough for me to believe you, and every time after helps strengthen the catapult. The day it launches me towards the moon, I will have a greater chance of landing upon its surface, rather than falling short and making a home among the stars. There is nothing wrong with doing so, but my loyalty lies with the moon because it was undeniably right when it said that you were somewhere out there talking to it too on all those lonely nights. I've said it before and I'll say it again, never worry about annoying me, and confidently allow your sweet nothings and confessions of love to become broken records. I am empowered by them far beyond words could ever express."

It's a tragedy that phone cameras cannot capture the beauty of the night sky, isn't it? I personally think it's because some things are too beautiful for photographs, and they are only meant to hold a special place deep within our hearts. In a world where proof is often needed to believe the tales ordinary people tell, what a photograph does not capture becomes a myth to everyone except you, the bearer of its truth. So when I scroll through my phone's gallery or search my room's cabinets wanting to come across a picture of us enjoying each other's company, but find nothing, I choose not to believe the love we once felt is lost; rather, we were simply too beautiful for photographs.

You didn't see my worth

You couldn't give it your all

You didn't want us to work

You watched me break down and fall.

Now look at who's trying

Look who wants to give it their all

You stood there 5 years ago laughing and watched me crying

Now you look at me as a prize possession...like your own personal doll

You want to marry me

You'll wait your entire life

Do you see the irony?

I'll never in a million years become your wife.