I can't love for a day; a week; or a month. When I love, I love deeply. So deeply, I don't know what to do with the love that seems to be feasting on me from the inside out. When I love. I love until the day I die. Even after the pain they give me, I love. Many call it a weakness. To me, it's beautiful. For I know that the next time I love, it'll be even deeper. Our souls will become one; our words will form sentences; our heartbeats will sing a melody. We'll be one. We'll belong. And in this void that you left behind - the place where my heart used to be - a flower will bloom. And the sun...