For if I love you without knowing you that can’t be real love, the kind of love where two people say “I love you,” to one another, and mean it.
But it could be the kind of love, just possibly, perhaps, that goes unsaid, and so I shall unsay it unto you: I may possibly love you, in the way a pure clean ancient underground spring courses its invisible way below us, unseen, unknowing.
So I do not love you, and you do not love me, but it goes without saying, for it remains unsaid, for now: I do not love you, and you can not yet love me.
Thoughts?
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