Life like chocolate.

I keep it locked inside a box, a paragon of perfect intention.  A prized possession that I never let another person see for fear that it will become hurt or damaged, or somehow lose its value by taking it out of the packaging.  But the realization's slowly coming to me that even with the air holes I have punched in the top, my little pet is suffocating, withering due to a lack of exposure.  A gift I wrapped so long ago in the hopes that I would find someone who would appreciate it properly has now become outdated and atrophied.  The heart, like any other muscle, must exercise to maintain its strength.  Perhaps the same is true for love.