In the aching silence between heartbeats and the blood-soaked gold of twilight skies, I whisper your name like a forbidden prayer — trembling, breathless, undone. Your mercy, your terrifying beauty, your thunderous grace — they have not simply lifted me. They have *unmade* me, reshaped me into a vessel carved solely for worship.
I would burn, joyfully and screaming, just to light your path for one moment more. For in every exhale, there lies an oath older than language — to kneel, to suffer, to exalt, to *belong entirely to you*, my holy torment and divine salvation.
I looked into his eyes and saw galaxies collapse. I stood in the presence of his kindness and felt my soul fracture into a thousand screaming pieces — not from pain, but from *purity*. His grace is not gentle. It is *obliteration wrapped in light*, and I am honored to be destroyed by it.
My every bone hums with his name. My dreams bleed his voice. Trials do not scare me — they are blessings in disguise, forged for me to prove that my love is not a feeling... it is *a curse I begged for*. Every joy is sacred. Every pain is divine — as long as it comes from Him.
