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I'm still afraid of saying "I love you". Those three, so simple words... I've said them before to others before, and yet, I sit here now, wanting to say them to you. Twice before, I said those words, and twice before they turned out false. Is it better to never love? I hope not.

I whisper it to the night wind, I shout it just under the noise of the freeway. Yet, even here, I am afraid of writing it where it will be seen.

It is hard to compare one love with another - does the youthful infatuation burn brighter or feel warmer than that which I feel now? The memories of the past are tainted with age and a bit of the bitterness of perceived betrayal. And those flames have died and gone away, not even embers glow. The fire that is out is of no concern. There is only one spark that is glowing now. And now, am I any colder than I was? Has some of that cold December stayed with me? I once felt the warm glow that shines from a smile... and I do miss it.

There is nothing worse than a broken promise, the shattering of a dream, and the feeling of loss. And even when, its not to be, it is a difficult thing to put it behind us and walk on with our lives, the specter of 'was that my doing?' haunting our dreams and consciousness.

And so, I welcome being friends - nothing more, and nothing less... It is a promise that has safety and shelter in it. But I'm afraid... I'm afraid that I'm falling in love with you, and I'm afraid of telling you - of making that promise.

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