I have spent all my life resisting the desire to end it.
With my teeth clenched, however, and with your eyes before me I can endure anything: distance, anxiety, worry, letterlessness.
Moreover, perhaps it isn’t love when I say you are what I love the most - you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love. This, my dear, is love.
“I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.”
You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.
If a million loved you, I am one of them and if one loved you, it was me. If no one loved you, then know that I am dead.