can it be true that you love another?
I do not like to believe that my affections have been in vain.
in vain is such an ugly phrase-
hopeless, I should say.
I do not want to love you hopelessly.

if I were to ask you what to do,
"stop loving me," you would surely say.
if only it were that easy;
if only I could exchange my sensibility
for your reason.

I am too indulgent of myself, too indulgent
of sadness that may have been gone by now
if it weren't for my constant submission to it.
I do not fight my tears, for tears are better than a
heart that can no longer feel.
but sometimes, sometimes, does not the overbearing heart
require rest?