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Love is an understatement. It’s more like an obsession, the way I feel when I’m near you, the way I feel when you’re nowhere to be found.
If you were mine you’d be my most prized possession. If only you were, then maybe you’d love me too. Then maybe you’d stick around.
Infatuation would be accurate, if it lasted forever.
Frustration comes when I see you two together.
But then again, it is more than two; everyone loves you, another reason why we’d never be together.
And this problem, it is more than you, it manifests deep within me, and holds true, through the roughest of weather.
Love, it destroys like a hurricane, a tempest of the most violent disposition.
Or, at least this remains true of my rendition.
And yet another reason why I cannot dub it so with conviction, my “love” devastates the very one I extol.
It proves to be less like a blessing, more similar to an affliction, the way it annihilates yours and my very soul.
And I indeed envy those that can say, with the utmost confidence, those three words. And indeed they do not hurt those they announce it to.
The feeling, I am jealous of, experiencing flight above that of angels or birds. The way I feel when I have been given hope from you.
But my hope never lasts, cut short by a realistic blade.
Though, I am thankful, for the truth, which, for such a short time I was able to evade.
All I can say is that I will forever feel this way. And it is true that I pray for you to convey those very same emotions, and at last allay my excruciating agony.
At best, I expect you put to rest my suspicion that it is me you detest. I wish it not as I have guessed, I steal your zest, you agree.
And the way I have loved you for so long, if I may accurately declare it love, plagues my very existence, pilfering away my exuberance and leaving an invalid in my place.
I beg the heavens it will pay off, that you will fall in love with me too, stuck together forever us two with the most potent glue, and you will bless me with your love and grace.