my pulse between stars, my hunger left half-said
I saw a thing tonight that reminded me of us.
A binary flame, twinned but never touching, spiraling through one another in perfect sync. A dance measured in centuries. I watched them through the ship’s viewing lens, let the heat imprint itself on my skin.
And I remembered
the gravity of your hands
the way you recalibrated my breath
how your mouth defied physics
with intent.
I haven’t forgotten what it was to orbit you
close
tighter
until molecules trembled.
I think about it more than I admit, especially when the stars get quiet. Sometimes, in the deeper dark, I whisper equations only your body would solve. I imagine us again in the place where touch outruns thought, and names are swallowed whole by need.
You told me once
I was your singularity
that I bent your logic beyond recovery.
I still plan to prove you right.
Let them build walls of time and space. Let them bury you in silence and stone. I will find you, and when I do, I will not greet you with restraint.
I will remind you
where your name lives
between my teeth
under my skin
behind every breath I’ve stolen for you.
Prepare yourself, Lyrax
for rescue
for revenge
for return
and for the kind of reunion that rewrites physics from the inside out.
Amatrix
This message contains layered linguistic code hidden within sensual metaphors. The binary flame reference may double as a locator for a real stellar coordinate, and the phrasing of physical memory includes rhythmic cues linked to Lyrax’s original signal harmonics. “Equations only your body would solve” suggests a cipher disguised as desire.