I pity you, how much I pity you for,
Oh, I know that you love me, I do.
But it grieves and aches my heart.
Sadness fills my bones when I see
Your sweet well-meaning gestures,
Freshly picked flowers, wild flowers
That bloom in an array of colors.
And the out of print book about
Kingdoms long gone that you
Searched countless shops just to find,
Only for me to merely give you a little
Pat on the back like one would give a dog.
Glances from you are simultaneously both
Embarrassing and unnerving, how your
Gaze can be so steady, constant as if
My eyes were life preserves to save your
Already drowning soul I have withheld.
Passion exaggerates my beauty in your eyes,
Turning me into a Helen of Troy with
Hair of pure copper and an ivory complexion.
Besides the book, besides the glances,
What pains me the most are the words.
Words that are full of kindness, grace, and
Romance, words every girl dreams of hearing
But I shrug off with unnecessary vehement.
I don't want your smiling flowers, unfaltering
Chivalry and heartfelt words of adoration.
Nor can I accept expensive gifts, your dreams
For the future, our future, or your relentless heart.
Especially your heart, the unwavering torch
You carry for me despite my rejection, my ridicule.
Sometimes I think that maybe I should take the,
Torch from you, which has grown since the start.
How heavy it must be, how much you desperately
Need to rest your tiring arms from ages of diligence.
Yet a reprieve, a passing of the torch is not in the
Forecast, I just can't.
How can I, when I can only love myself?
Do I even love myself?