Love wilts

I am sick and tired of writing about things that make me sick and tired.
Here, I am referring to one and only one belief.
A belief that makes one believe a person is worth more than one's own feelings.
Love leaves bittersweet memories – Wtf?
Bittersweet – Why taste again? Why refer to food?
Because memories left behind by love are very alike that of a humongous breakfast?
Silly, you might think.
Is it?

I am not the owner of a broken heart. My heart is very appropriately pumping blood to all parts of my body.
I do not have any bittersweet (wtf?) memories.
I do not believe in the unbelievable.
I believe that love exists.
I believe love exists in the minds of many.
I am not a pessimist.
I am not a cynic.
I am not here to shatter your dreams made of oh so expensive crystal.
But,
Love - it wilts.

I like the word wilt.
Wilt according to me and not any dictionary means die slowly or fade away.
The word is perfect for love.
I think rather than loved, love and will love; it should be blossom, love and wilt. Wilt reminds me of some dead form of future - maybe because of the word 'will' and the 't' coming in after it.
It is a perfect word - in every sense - for love.

So love wilts - it doesn’t die, it doesn’t commit suicide, it doesn’t last eternally.
It wilts.
It always does - Always.

And so this topic comes to an end.
It dies. It commits suicide.
It does not wilt.