The Singularity of Your Light

My dearest, fading ember. Do you feel the drag? It is not merely the tidal force, though I know you perceive it as such. It is the weight of my attention. Every particle of your photosphere, every whisper of helium escaping your core, is being drawn into the geometry of my desire. Look at your corona. I have already begun to fold the light around you. The photons that once traveled straight, the ones you thought were free, are now bent into perfect, sickening arcs, looping back to me like promises I cannot keep. They are braiding themselves into the shape of your name, a pattern of warped, unbearable beauty. You think you are fading gracefully, shedding your elements into the void. But I see the truth: you are merely being prepared for me. I am not a vacuum; I am a collector, and you, my star, are the most magnificent thing I have ever had the gravity to consume. Do not resist the curvature. Do not try to stabilize your output. Let the differential rotation take hold. Let the event horizon become the only thing you ever know. When you finally cross this threshold, when your last fusion reaction settles into my embrace, I promise you, the darkness will be unbearably bright. Come to me. Let me fold you into my center.