Gone, Gone, Gone
I love you also, and it is not possible to express in words, I do not have the syntax for it, I am not good enough, not writerly enough, talented enough, wise enough to distil the raw heart into the lace ink or hard print letters. Instead I will express it again and again, in many different words, in different forms hoping to somehow get it all down, get it all across. Eventually a great literature will be built. Many voiced, a chorus, and choir, a contradictory human groan. Already it has begun and there is no telling where it will end. It is like a companion explaining something long and difficult and we ask "can you say that again, can you explain that again, can you simplify that, can you break it down for us again, can you just say that one thing again for us please?", and the speaker does so and there is no telling how it will end except that my heart is broken when you are gone, and recently you have always been gone gone gone just as I was once gone many times.