Hot under the collar

You know, usually when I write you on here, I aim for tender and sweet. And I do feel that way for you, absolutely. But… Since we saw each other a few days ago, and you in that dress…

I mean. Hot under the collar? That collar is currently struggling to hold in the heat of a billion billion suns, blasting forth like the universe's hottest furnace. If you were to touch me in this instant, I don't know if the fabric of space and time could handle the resulting explosion. It would rip a you-shaped hole (and oh my god what a shape that is…) right through the very firmament. The energies involved would make the Big Bang look like one of those little poppit firecrackers the kids throw at each other's feet. A failed one.

My god, woman. I wonder if you even know what you do to me.

PS — I love you. And we really need to talk… I really need to talk, to you. Desperately. Despite the contents of this letter, I promise to be good…