All that comes from waiting, not trying and being too afraid to risk.
There was once this heart that kept its affections within a box.
Neither hide nor hair can be seen from those enclosed, so tight was the box locked.
The heart thought that the affections, safe and preserved within the vacuum would neither decay nor wither, so it kept the box under lock and key, summer after summer.
So foolish was the heart that day after day, year after year, kept all that passion under control, imprisoned within that tiny box till the summer turned into winter, after winter after winter.
But then the time finally came that the heart, weary of keeping its little secrets under constant and vigilant guard, finally decided to let free those little affections that long ago so clamored and raged to be released.
As the box, stands silent and still, the heart, scratched its puzzled and grizzled face because it could no longer hear and feel those tiny flutters of love, hate, like, anger and happiness, all within the small, cramped space.
And when the heart turned the key for release, bated its breath and waited as the lid was lifted, all that came out, all that could come out, was nothing. Not even a trace of what was once there.