There she stood, perplexed, unable to move, standing still statuesque and tilted, frozen in time. Uneased by the words my mouth uttered with my breaths last exaust. Those words that take a gallon of courage to think, and months of moments plastered all over your heart before you gain the infinitesque of courage to even ponder saying them. 
And there I stood, baffled by my bluntness and impulsivity around her. Heart pounding rampant in my chest, I inhaled wishing to take the words back in as if a thread were bound to them. But I couldn’t, I had spoken, and whatever were to happen next didn’t matter. Loved or unloved suddenly became irrelevant, all I wanted was for her to know she was loved with or without her intent, with or without her desire, with or without her reciprocity, she was loved: as is without tweaks, without condition, without any desire of change. There we left it, as if no words had been spoken, as if no changes had ocurred.
She stood there, for a moment, and then went about her day.

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