Prose: "charm, strange, truth, beauty"

We are weightless, you and I.

We are floating in nothingness and everythingness, and life is just a pinprick point of silver light on an endless black. A sunray through a crystal. We are the solar winds and we are the heliopause. You are my beating heart and I am the softness of your hands. We are poems and songs and science and beauty.

You and I, we are weightless.

Quarks paired together, held together by gluons. Up or down? Charm or strange or truth or beauty or all of them at once? Is such a thing possible? Can your physics explain us? Can my watercolours picture us? Is this love story a dead star or a thriving new world, thrumming with the possibility of life?

How long, I wonder, until you become sick with me and burdened by me? How long before I collapse in on myself, and my heaviness becomes all I am, turning all that was gloriously something into a long line of atomic nothing, unable to become any smaller? What happens when not even your light can escape my gravity, warping the space and time we tried to surround ourselves with, turning glittering scintillas of light into tortured white lines caught in an eternal arc?

For the time being, I must remember: we remain weightless. No up or down. Suspended with our own strange charm. Truthfully, beautifully.

I am weightless and afraid.