The only dazing bitersweet cut I will ever feel is when the person I love, is loved by someone else so deeply. To listen just how much you are loved from someone else's mouth, I feel that, God, you are blessed. Like bitter honey, every syllables of your name drips down her mouth on an unexplainable gratefulness in me. I could love you with the intensity of a raging tsunami or an angry hurricane or both, but only in all the wrong ways: I can never translate it into actions. In that way, you will never know. In that way, it's completely obsolete.
It is adequate that someone love you dearly and mildly but show you those pieces, those chunks of right love and make you feel, make you aware that you are loved rather than a swooning love subdued. Buried under indifferences and second guessing.
You will never know but please, for fuck sake. I love you. Even in all the wrong ways.
