Knowing
I can't do it. Can't do it. Can't do it. She'd hate me forever--forever. Forever is a long time for hate; forever is how long I've loved her. Love is painful enough.
I can't do it. I can't. Can't.
"Yes, you can," she said, clear as a bell and bright as the sun.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close to me, kissing her soft, pink lips many times over.
If you love someone and they love you back, shouldn't everything be fine?
Wonderful?
Heavenly?
Comfortable?
I guess not. Maybe I'll never know.