Okay, I stop.
I've tried my best but I feel like I dream alone about this gigantic love. Anyway, this is a love.
I offer you thanks and sorry, Love.
Pick one that you think fits best as a final word from me. Or you can pick both of them if you want to. Treat yourself.
Nice to meet you, Love.
You're insanely awesome. I have no idea about ingredients you have thus give such an addiction on me. Caffeine, maybe? Or it's kind of nicotine? You know, I don't.
I also ask myself many times about reasons to feel you yet I don't find any, even just one. People say that's a sign of a true love. I don't know, you judge.
Hey Love, here we are.
I give these wings back to you. I stop flying, now. With this fear of height and no one waits for me between the sky and the ground, I have no guts to fly.
I write on a piece of paper, fold it into a paper plane and ask the wind to fly it to you. Thanks and/or sorry from me for everything I did when feeling you, Love.