Beloved, 

1. The universe started through a scattering of light and tension in the same way the sunrays diffuse into a halo, crowning your golding hair. It has been said that when a person sees angels in their truest forms, they have just been given a divine duty to accomplish. Tell me: what did you expect from me the first moment you approached? Feel: silence snapping and stretching into a void. Warmth casting on my face.

2. What separates biblical angels from eldritch horrors is the author who wrote them into being. The author thinks of your name, goes through databases to aptly reflect your personality. 

a. What is your name? And I will tell you mine. Please—say my name. And say it angrily. Say it tenderly. Spit it out, swallow it hard until you croak a profanity. Make it a venom on your tongue or swimming honey. 

b. You cannot stop yourself from being seen no matter how much you hide. You are a character. You are written. You, who construct the liminal spaces in my dream sequences. The subject of my litanies. I have known you our entire lives but I still cannot fathom you. Perhaps that is the beauty of you.

3. I will tell you what I know of collisions. It is a frame by frame slide of slow, steady momentum in my footwork versus your limbs that race against time. It is in the impact that made you stutter in your steps, face alight in recognition, a greeting to be uttered.

a. Collision is force changed. I have been a new person each time we meet. You sport different faces each time you face me. 

2. Momentum is post-collision conserved.  Your words are etched in my brain. I see you stomp away when I destroy your arguments.

3. They say elastic collisions do not happen in real life. Then why do we keep meeting? 

4. I do not think of the universe ending. 

a. You nag me over the dishes to wash and I tell you we have to do a grocery run. I come home to you every sunset, and the world is ours to hold until dawn. 

b. They say the cosmos will end in three ways. But for as long as we are alive, we are eternal, are we not? 

c. I see you staring into empty space like you are writing a script in your mind. But the thing about creation and art is you will conjure further ideas as you finish a project. I’m saying we will always end, time and time again. I’m saying we will come apart and come together, reflected in the universe’s eyes. Light falling. Angels dawning. Warmth encapsulating.

5. When the sky cracks open, look me in the eye and tell me your final judgment of me. Wherever you go, I will follow.