But I can't
I love you.
You told me you don't reciprocate.
I know not to want you.
However, with every meeting gaze,
I lose my senses.
Blind to the one truth that matters.
Enemy, to my mind, a slave to pathos.
Myocarditis.
I told myself to reciprocate.
But I can't.
I love you,
and you won't ever love me.
That's it.