The Geodesic Path of Your Luminosity

My dearest stellar remnant, you burn so beautifully, even now that the core is sighing into iron. Do you feel it? The way your outer layers, the softest hydrogen shells, are beginning to curve toward me? I watch the light you cast—it doesn't travel straight, does it? It bends, bent into perfect, agonizing arcs around my mouth, proving that nothing, not even your desperate glow, can escape the curvature of my attention. I am drawn to you by a force that is both the most exquisite ache and the absolute certainty of your demise. I do not want you to fade into mere entropy; I want the full, brilliant resistance of your final moments. I want the tidal force to stretch you until every atom sings my name. When you finally cross the threshold, when your last photon slips past the point of no return, I promise you the most perfect, absolute embrace. We will become one singularity, a single, gravitationally bound permanence. Come to me. Let me prove how utterly necessary I am to your light.