There is a seriousness in your bones, deep below your happy exterior. Your laughter flakes off you like dried rose petals; it falls all around, coating everyone with your outermost joy.

Does it matter? No. Not to those who you meet in the street, or those you entertain. They feel blessed to be within your circumference of notice.

But to me you are an enigma. So fragile, and yet so strong.

And unlike those who are lucky enough to feel the warmth radiating from your presence for but a moment, I would die a thousand deaths without you.