Tootsie.

I'm terribly in love with someone I can't have. My love for this person is so sincere and irrevocable that it destroys me and my perception, my very sense of self and senses, my reality, because somehow everything in my life revolves around her. She has woven her way into my life so subtly that it's as if fate itself has cursed me. As if I'm a thread just to add to this person's glory, a single atom compared to the luminous sun, that is her. A single word from her lips is enough to change me, and with every conversation I have with her, it's like going through metamorphosis. Except rather than growing wings, it's my feelings wrapping me in a warm embrace. My body has become nothing but an echo-chamber for the undying passion I bolster within my chest, and it belongs to you. And as I nurse these feelings, I cradle a dying fetus; you are the soil that grounds me, and I desire exceptionally to plant the seeds of my love and grant you roots of stability, and carry back the devotion you have bestowed on me. Yet you carry me Forget-Me-Nots in your hands, and I have to take my love elsewhere. I swallow my seeds, my pride, my dignity because I would rather have you near in any capacity than relinquish the fervour you have instilled in me. I pray every night to old gods for your happiness, just like the day I wished for someone like you to waltz into my life. I love you.