“You don’t ever forget the feeling, you just put it away.” Yes. If I could wrap my love up in a box and set it neatly at your feet, I would. Send it to it’s maker, to do with what you will. Become free at last to venture forward in peace, knowing that I had truly done everything that I could, that you might unwrap it and finally understand it’s force, it’s wonder, it’s timelessness. Yet here it remains, chained uselessly to my heart, struggling eternally toward you, anxious to rest in the home from which it was cast forth. Pain lies in the promise that it cannot reach you. It will be left forever to yearn across the distance. Hopefully, futilely. Do you not know that only you can sever the ties, cut the bonds that connect it so acutely to my heart? I need only one word, my dear. One word to know that all hope and chance are well and truly dead. Then I might lay my love to rest, “put it away.” Paint a smile upon my lips, and tread ever onward. Go.
Or would I?