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.