The realization is finally dawning upon me that the years have not quieted or changed my love for you in the least — that I was a fool to believe they had. That in my heart I am still that same small person who loves you to the point of ruin, from first hello to dying breath, with every fiber of their being. I wish for nothing more right now than to tell you how much I still love you. To hear you say it, too. But time and distance will not allow it. And my heart is growing weary from the weight of a love with nowhere to go. It gathers slowly in my quiet desperation; metamorphoses to grief. Is there no going back to where we came from? Here we will be shattered by the amplitude of our silence.