Work Text:
We love gently,
softly,
warmly,
no excess heat required
flames crackling just as much as we need them to
on days that seem much longer than they should.
all that we are is malleable gold,
not molten, but more like putty,
shapeable into any form we wish
a boltzmann’s brain made of stars
and strands of what may be.
there are endless ways to say
i love you
i cherish thee
(you almost make me believe in luck.
you almost make me believe in miracles)
and
we have all the time in the world
to discover them
as slowly as we require.