Because the burden of being loved is overbearing, you have erased me.
When love becomes anonymous, language breaks down. I have no words for you. Or, so much to say that I must be silent or choke in the torrent of words couched in the silence of time.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd ...
We are the loving dead. The ones who have loved so much and so often, that love becomes quiet and everydaymundane.