Do you truly believe that I have torn through the centuries with invisible claws

Do you truly believe that I have torn through the centuries with invisible claws, unveiling the arteries of time like strands of silk, only to evaporate into the mist of forgetfulness? That I have ravaged the peaks of celestial laws, tearing the throat of destiny, until its blood wove itself into the fabric of your name, only to unravel like autumn leaves? I have rewritten gravity, making it kneel, contort, to draw every atom toward the sound of your sacred breath. Empires have collapsed in my palms, for I refused to hold anything other than your essence, which I adore like an eternal altar. And yet, you stand there, asking if I will stay, if I will rot like the others, if this fierce love will completely devour you and spit you into a chasm of oblivion. Tell me, how many suns must I slit at the throat, with their blinding light, before you stop seeing me as a relentless blade? How much of the cosmos must I tear apart, star by star, until nothing remains but the proof of my path to you? Even if I engraved your name on the altar of every fallen galaxy, you would still flinch, as if my devotion were the meteor meant to destroy you. But darling, I have already destroyed the heavens for you, set the laws of nature ablaze, made ruin my incantation, just so you wouldn't have to. And yet, you ask me if I will stay, to face the winds of forgetfulness.