Marvel's Disorder

He thought she was marvelous; would never tell anyone the hours, which eventually added up to days and weeks, he spent pondering her silent complexion.  The Fraility with which the world broke down before her.  It trusted her, believed in her so deeply that it was willing to throw away its crust, exposing that bright, red-hot, molten core.  He on the other hand, did not trust her.  Though he nurtured this nirvana for her, it only exacerbated his refusal to let her in.  His pain was not hers, his reaction to her sentimentality was false.  He could not help himself.  In time, hours which soon became days and weeks, after each had saturated every neuron in their brains with cognition of the other, they broke apart.  His surface shattered, he oribts wildly around the world he once lived on.  His center remaining a secret only because it is too difficult to piece together a billion part puzzle.  He is not worth anyones time.