How could you let me be a repressed shadow of an instant that kept defining your true self?

The tip of the pen grew weary of your delay as lovingly consented it was never the right choice

My love, my inspiration..

Doesn't longing leave a mark deep as a hurt that never surfaced? as deep as the unwavering consciousness?

There it was and it never changed, it was without any thoughts of self that she realized it was unconditional

It was more complex yet ever so simple

My love, I give you anything without a single doubt