There's an old poem on love and life without-
A classic really! And a very boring one at that.

You know the kind only the wise would fall for?
Yes, that.

But take me for a fool, the one that I am, for I can't find you in it.
Neither within the metaphors nor the words that I'm so much in love with.

What you are to me is its very last line, where all of it comes to an end-
When I can finally turn the page and hope only for a better indulgence of time.

The world is like that one old poem on love and life without- and you, my dear, are its very last line.