What was all the weeping for? The endless tears over you, what did they do but drown me? The anger, like a swarm of bees, who sting before they die? What did that do, but scar me? What was all the aching hope, but a drifting ship, with no north star? What did hope do but lose me? I breathe now in the knowing of it, not in the fighting of it, nor in the agony over it. I hold it as it is, and I live with it: That I will love you forever, and you do not want me to.