The love I have to give may be too much for you.

The love I have to give may be too much for you. It will bend you out of shape. You won’t recognise yourself once it has entered into your tiny little world, spoiling everything like a hurricane. It will sweep away the silly things you used to hold dear. And the silly thoughts you kept like twine strung around your half dormant mind. It will fill you and frighten you. It will ruin you and make you all at once. It will show you that though you held much in your hands, you were simply a pauper. And blind. And deaf. And dead. And pitiable. It will make your colours brighter. It will force you to hear the minutiae of the universe’s music. You will be over-awed. It will destroy everything you thought you knew and everything you thought you were and leave you without foundations, no walls, no handles to hold on to. Just it and you, slowly merging and reforming; like larvae eating up the death held in rotting limbs. I suppose I shouldn’t blame you for running from me. The love I have to give you may be too much.