She loved me I knew, but that was difference
between us.
I was totally and completely in love with her.
I had fallen into an oblivion of skewed rationality in
her midst,
and she would never cease to catch my breath in
my throat,
or fill my lungs with her radiated serenity.
I fell deep into a pool of which she
would only see the lilies of the surface,
but it would never ripple for her.
And so, I had to let her go.
If there ever was a poisoned reason in this life,
it would be falling madly in love.
And I would rather breathe that poison
every second of every day of every year
just to see her floating in ecstasy with someone
else
than to be wading wrongly in love with me.
She would never love me as I her.
She would never lose balance in my kiss,
or become drunk off my scent like I did hers.
She would never stand in a hurricane
just for a chance to hear my voice calling in the wind,
And she would never fall into a tragic romance with me.
She loved me, I knew,
But that’s where the power of words come in.
She loved me, but I was in love with her.

    --An attempt to write romance:
       from my high school years