Unsent letter number twelve.

Body and intellect of mine left in torment.
Venom I inhale, and I exhale devotion.
Will your brilliantly patterned beauty lead to my deathbed?
My face muscles froze.
You can make them thaw.
Candy drama.
Why is the audience so brutal?
There is no other way to show my agony.
To speak I cannot.
Loss will result.
People.
Beliefs.
Pride.
To write I can.
Unsigned letters I also keep to myself.
They grow to be unsigned and unsent.
I would choke on my thoughts unless I get them out, somewhere.
Papers, pens, keyboards and screens became my salvation.
My escape.
My way to hold on.
What if my face muscles died?
The guidance of your magical self won’t be enough to bring them to life once more.
I need to drill a hole in your sky.
I want only for true feelings to come alive.
Superficial love is good when it’s true.
Affection is bad when it is not true.
Love is powerful when it is true.
Love is insane when it is true.
Love is sweet suffering when it is true.
Love is phenomenal when it is true.
Love is thrilling when it is true.
Love it fearless when it is true.
Love is hate when it’s fake.
My love for you is true, but I fear.
I fear only of losing you… or me.