Let's Confess Love

I long to confess my love,
But words—oh, words—fail me.
I search for a way,
A gesture, a form, a perfect frame
To hold this aching truth inside me.

A love letter, I think—
But it feels too old, too worn,
A relic of a time when hearts bled on paper,
When ink could carry what the tongue could not.

Perhaps an SMS, quick and simple—
But it feels too fleeting,
Too easy, too distant,
A whisper lost in the digital wind,
A hollow echo of what I truly feel.

Maybe a candlelight dinner—
A classic, a gesture of warmth and elegance.
But so many have walked that well-worn path,
So many hearts have been laid bare
Under the glow of flickering flames.

And still, I wonder—
What is the right way to say it?
What gesture could ever capture
The depth of this quiet storm within me?

Then, perhaps, it is simple.
Perhaps the answer is to be raw,
To strip away the artifice,
And speak from the heart,
Unadorned, unmasked,
With no pretence, no grand gesture.

Maybe the truth, spoken plainly,
Is the most profound gift I can give.

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