#035 A Recollection of Cyrus

Light of my life, so white and bright,

The club was dark on the fateful night we met but you lit up the room with your brilliant personality. Others flocked to you like moths to a flame; they had no idea they would get burned. But I did, and I followed you home anyway.

You’re black matter in a fixture of pure light. Unstable. Dangerous. Self-destructive. Like me. That is what drew me to you, not the cheerful facade others love to accuse you of.

As your equal opposite, I cannot exist without you.

Your dearest darkness, doom and gloom.