My skin around my eyes is tight today as I cried.

Venus is my view from the window. Adam had said the room that’ll be your room in the house could be named the Venus Room as it’ll be the same in colour. Her heart is iron which is black, her rocky skin is carbonic which is brownish, and her volcanoes have made a wrap around her with white clouds of sulfur. She had appeared pink in pictures but she isn’t. She is, if you walk her surface. I had seen the Venus sky and walked the surface of her.

The train tracks rust, but have been oiled and are now a shimmery copper colour. If it’s this way when you miss me, I’m growing blacker by the second.

You’re Venus.