In six hours, I have destroyed and devoured you, and bolted down my core from your rearranging ways. I have invited you in, only to send you away. I have cooked, bathed and blessed you; built an empire for two. I’ve ran my finger up and down your spine, countless times.

In six hours, I have waited at the front row, waited at home. I have been your devil at 3am, your lover all night, and the source for you other women advice. I’ve thrown some knives, and caught none. I have woken up next to you, in my mind, a hundred times.

In six hours, I have loved you for a lifetime, and left you a million times. I’ve frozen up, given up, and held you up to the light to check for imperfections. I’ve discounted you over and over. I’ve recounted your skin, scoured your bright surface for sin and found some, but none that dims the shine.

In six hours, I’ve written Fanmail, scrubbed out lines… said everything, and nothing, and rehearsed goodbyes. I’ve been yours, been twenty-five, been more your type, been the perfect wife, and seen that we’re nothing alike. I’ve loved in the face of your pain, polished your framed fame and burned in the flames of your fever.

In just six hours, I have thawed in seconds, melted in minutes, and evaporated into your incredible.