When I think about how I'm in love with you, I hear piano music in my head. It crescendoes until the strings come in, gentle and sad, reminding me that I have no chance, letting me down softly from this cloud I'm in.

But it's right in the forte that I get lost. Right in the crazy pounding of the keys, passionate and full, shamelessly honest and strong and everything I want to be. There is no such thing as an infinite fermata, but if there were, it would go right there: hanging in the balance of you and me.