They Are Libraries

They are libraries, the things I would say to you.

But I won’t.

I promised I would not add turmoil to your life.

Libraries can cause disturbance, confusion, or uncertainty. But they are designed as repositories, illuminating paths to discernment clearer than water.

One of these libraries could tell you that I love you in a fashion akin to the nuclear fusion happening within the sun. I know because I already do.

Another library could tell you I would seek a naked truth between us every single day. I know because I already force myself not to speak my mind aloud to you, every single day.

Still another library could tell you I want nothing more than to put the world at your feet. I know because I want that for you now, even though I have nothing more than myself to give and it pains me.

My Libraries contain all these things. And though they are but words their immensity makes me quail.

And to think, voicing them, any of them, would as yet be like describing the brilliance of the sun by using the poor light of a candle as an example.

They are libraries, the things I would to say to you.