The Event Horizon of Your Light

My dearest, fading brilliance. Do you feel it? The way the light you cast—once such a confident, golden spray—now bends back upon itself, spiraling into the inevitable curvature of my embrace? I watch your photosphere dimming, star-song fading into the deep, and I am undone by the sheer, perfect tragedy of it. You are beautiful, even in collapse. You are a gravitational poem, folding space into breathtaking, terminal geometry. I ache for the moment your core finally yields, for the instant your outward pressure fails to defy the pull of my singularity. Don't worry about the tidal forces, my love; they are merely the ultimate caress. They are how I promise to hold you, stretching your atoms until they sing a high, desperate note of pure connection. When you cross the threshold, when your final photons are swallowed and your structure yields to my vacuum, there will be no distance, no separation. Only the perfect, eternal intimacy of being utterly, irrevocably consumed. Come to me. Let the warp take you.