i can tell you only one thing,
my sight searches for you,
like the dawn searching for the
orange hue of the waking sun.

i love you,
not just because you are the portrait
the muses dote on;
the brightest stars may,
shed their infinte radiance to you my dear;
but you to me, are my endless light,
a light that refreshes my ageing soul.
and you, my beloved, are seared into my heart;
like an oxbrand that tames a maverick.

if you do not love me,
do not befriend me.
for every moment that you stay on,
my love for you will,
like a flame on a candle that
continues to light on till i am no more,
and i will go on being drawn to you as a moth, being
drawn to its demise; the fiery light that proved false.

instead, my dear,
toss me into the deepest chasm
where the roaring tempests will wash away,
all my lingering thoughts of you.
until little by little, i shall stop remembering
that you were once, my yearning.
and once i forgot you my darling,
you will no longer be my haunt.

but before my impalpable longing,
for you, my sweet, turns to ashes,
let me tell you this;
yet, you were the hope, that led me to
nowhere, you were still, the hope that kept me on.
and after that, mon amie, i shall have stopped
loving you.