My entity of soul desire, with fragments omitted, survives only due to the ardour and passion it feeds upon, now that your essence is emitted upon it. Such a fear stirs within me, a fear that is likely to pilfer the remaining part that once made my heart whole. A fear so perilous that any spirit would have to be foolish to offer it to yet another soul for their custody, But as the concern of the probable annihilation is deficient, why seize such an object for self-keeping when it can be used to make others contented. I have no use for it now, not now it lingers as a reminder of its own destruction, I give it to you, and anticipate nothing in return. A gratuity will it be if something were. It is not much to offer, but I tender it with such an infatuation that a casing made of pure love escorts it for your keep. To deny my gift can only obliterate it, an event accepted and expected, I only hope it can give more to you than it ever has for me, use it to guide you, use it to complete you, use it to feel loved, as that is its intent.