Dearest,
I struggle to put my thoughts into words. They seem to fall out of my mouth in a pile, tangled and disastrous. I, however, am able to write coherently, words flowing seamlessly from my head to my pages. But, while I am skilled and trained in the arts, I cannot express how I feel about you. Our language does not possess the means to describe how my heart longs for you, how it aches and scratches at my ribcage, yearning for you to hold me close.
I believe all things beautiful are of your creation. The night sky in all its glory, cascading over our heads. Even the deepest oceans, bursting with magic and wonder. Perhaps, that is why. Your eyes hold the seas, encapsulating the allure in all of them. It is as if you embody all things good.
I suppose that would not fare well with who they intend for me to be. Whenever I go out on my travels, I bring darkness and despair. The worst flocks to me and life dies upon feeling my touch. If I were to have you, your radiance would deteriorate and bid me farewell instantaneously. I would contaminate you. Your soul would drop dark, and your eyes would run cold.
At times like these, I wish you to fall. I would be there to catch you. We would be together at last. It truly is a shame that it is forbidden. Perhaps one day we shall be reborn, a new life where we can be free, where we can live however we want to. I think my hair would be purple. I have always found something pleasant in its various shades. You would look exceptional with red, blend quite well with my home.
No matter, I love you exceptionally.
Write back soon, darling,
Harry Styles, God of Death