And,
I know of a love that has remained throughout my life a secret. I
have attempted to
share it on numerous occasions, to no avail. This
love has remained my secret.
This love that
is felt cannot be shared with anyone, not even one who
is the object of this love; especially
not with her. This love cannot
be expressed by words or in thoughts. To speak it is to
diminish it.
The feeling is mine alone. A secret. It remains. So,
the most beautiful of
experiences draws me inside, not out. Into a
void I once tried to avoid. Love draws me.
Draws me. This way,
alone, I
am
who I am.
I, a sketch drawn
by love itself.
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