You all should love You.
You are the only You.
No one is more You than you are.
Each part of You you discover and accept,
And allow others to discover and accept,
The more you define You.
Once you are done defining You,
Those still around you are the ones who love You.
Even the most incessant and articulate logophile could not contain within limitless words the amount that I miss you. You never stray from my thoughts, not even for a fleeting moment, and there is not compelling enough a prospect to dissuade me from retention of memories of us. My only wish is that you come back, though it will seemingly never come to fruition. In place of this, I can only pray to dream of you to once again feel the warmth of your embrace, inhale the allure of your scent and bare witness to the beauty of your form in the realism and splendour of my ethereal imaginings.
As you turned your back on my enamoured gaze, I was left bereft and crushed by the absence of your embracing presence, no thought could beguile the sense of mutual loss we felt, yet in a bout of misplaced anger and angst I offered myself to the harlots and harpies in an attempt to assuage my hollow body, but before I could be tainted by the mark of regret through indecision, the potential of even the most infinitesimal magnitude that I might once again feel your warmth made me view my fleeting intention with abhorrence and resolve to remain true to me, and to you
You showed me that I could rise to the level of the Seraphim, through my self-inflicted damnation, when I thought that not even the sirens of the underworld deserved the plight of my company, you then sought my buried strength and wrought it into the armour that now encases me and sharpened my dulled awareness to fend off the myriad monsters wearing reality as a guise.