if i loved you before i met you, then surely i would miss you as much.
but how am i to know if there was no wave of an arm, if you never said hello?
i have never meant more than nothing to you, and that is all-encompassing. throwing wish coins into the well of our nonexistence, we revel in our ignorance of one another. our love carries on in busy crowds where elbows graze but do not touch, where breaths mingle with each other but are not swallowed, where our eyes cannot and will never meet.
there is no love as mighty as ours—
silent,
unaware—
and our absence is a testimony to our inessential devotion.