Are we not the illustrious men we perceive ourselves to be?
Are we not seen as highly as we see ourselves?
Is love what has been blinding us for all these years?
Has the longing for love brought lust into our eyes to cheat ourselves of our true intentions?
Were our intentions of love in the first?
Was it not lust?
Could it be true, there is no such thing as love?
That what it was we felt was; in fact, lust.
The longing for such, emotion be equaled.
I cannot allow this my love.
The thoughts you bare are not in the same of mine.
They belong entire to one other.
I am not illustrious.
Nor do I see myself in any other light than one bared from the sun.
Love does not blind us.
It does not cheat nor steal.
Emotion ‘twas equaled.
Not between us; no, but to her.
The sun.