I have known and tasted many a soul, but there is none like that of Jeron Miles. None could compare to his savory zest. Kind, gentle, fierce. Unyielding in principle.

His soul is a siren calling to my own. The harmony we create is unlike anything I’ve ever heard or felt. So close to oneness, a fine line keeps us apart, yet he is unwavering.

I know his weariness.

I know his sorrow.

I know his pain.

I feel it every time his eyes meet mine and yet still his gaze glimmers with a cornucopia of hope. What lies behind those hazel orbs is a tale of a life yet unlived. Unappreciated. Disrespected. Downtrodden. But there is hope. So much hope. It’s contagious.

He knows my weariness.

He knows my sorrow.

He knows my pain.

And yet still he holds my soul in his hands as if it were some delicate thing worth protecting.

A champion of unparalleled prowess in battle and love. He opened my long shuttered eyes to the chance that love is real.

The serenade of his heart pulses through my veins. He gives me life.

The way he dances in the banquet of war bolsters my own rotten, fragmented being. I’ve fought alone for so long. Shattered and devoid of hope. Life was cheap. Worth nothing more than the dust we are all destined to become. 

And then he rose from the ashes of my ruin and pieced me back together. He says I repay him in ways he cannot name or count, but still I feel I do not do him justice. How can I, a weak, pathetic thing, stand before the radiance of a damn near god?

I threw so much of myself away and yet somehow he’s found me in the rubbish bin of my soul and brought me back into the light.

Gods how his soul has changed me.

I’ve seen his joy.

Felt his love.

Heard his song.

Tasted his soul.

Nothing else compares.

I starve without his presence.

I languish and whither when we are apart.

I am less without him.

My soul a dirge to his hymn.

O, how I want nothing more than to fan his flames and bask in his warmth. To emerge from the dark and feast in his radiance.

I did not know the light until his soul shone upon me. Leading me, guiding me, teaching me. Teaching me that perhaps in this twisted, awful world I am deserving of something I had forsaken long ago.

I can never return to the familiar embrace of cold dark.

His soul is strong. His soul is great. His soul is everything.

But it can still break.

I know the price of a broken soul. The pain. The suffering. The loss. The emptiness.

Never will I allow even a scratch befall his own.