There are worse ways to die than tangled up in you.
Not a restraint, merely a disguise, a tantalizing display of plumage.
Not a fire, though you make me ignite.
Not a drop of cold ocean, but a dark sea of curling delirium.
There is gasping for breath and a fair amount of sensory deprivation, but I'd never complain. To breathe even for a moment this sweet clean scent; to see just a glimpse through this tangled canopy-- it's enough. I'd much rather be here, in the forest, watching the wildlife do its thing.
Out there are complications, salutations, social mitigations... I want to smile for hello, and to throw polite out with every single elastic I've acquired.
Why quell this sweet madness? You deserve to be celebrated.
Tell Rapunzel never to let you down again.
Tell her to let you free.