Where I live, there are two suns. One is always floating in the sky, hanging from an invisible string. The other one is you. It hurts to look at you, but I always know you’re there even if I can’t see you. I can feel you on my skin no matter how far away you are. Your presence is inescapable and scalding. It’s warmth and pain and every cell in my body yearns for you, but if you’re always around then I want you gone and if you go away I want you back.

Sometimes I like to close my eyes and tilt my face up toward yours and pretend that I can finally look at you because more than anything, I want to see you without tears clouding my eyes and sweat dripping down my face. But there are too many layers of skin and clothes between us and it is never enough. 

I want you to blind me. I want you to be the last thing I see before it’s just multicolored darkness forever. But I can never do it. Because what if once is not enough? What if I want to look at you again and again? It’s not fair that I only get one chance before everything is nothing for the rest of my life. 

You hurt. You burn. And I want you even if it means the end of me.