Behold how countless souls pour their hearts into letters for their beloveds, a fervent wish that you had done the same, and more. Yet, here I am, drowning not in the certainty of your love, but in the depths of my own devotion to you. Were your affections sincere, or were you merely a transient spirit, a gypsy, wandering through my heart's corridors, leaving only echoes of fleeting affection in your wake?

Oh, how I yearn for a reality where you never graced my life, where your departure was as swift as your arrival. How did I become ensnared in a love so imbalanced, where my devotion eclipses yours like a blazing sun against a waning moon? Why must I be the one to pen letters and poems, to shed tears in your absence, while you remain a distant memory, a shadow of the person I once knew, akin to the person I was before you invaded my world?

How is it that I continue to forgive you, even as we both lay broken and shattered by the weight of our tumultuous bond? My heart lies in ruins, yet it still beats with an ache that only your presence can soothe. It's a longing that transcends time, as though we were destined lovers in past lives, doomed to repeat the cycle of love and loss for eternity.

With each breath, I mourn your absence, my soul crying out for the solace of your embrace, clinging to hope for a reunion that may never come. Our tale reads like a tragedy, a masterpiece of love and heartache with no happy ending in sight. Why do I love you so fiercely, despite the pain you've inflicted? I loathe this consuming passion, this relentless yearning for a love that may never be fully returned.

How do I move past this agony, this relentless ache for a love that may never be fully realized?

© keebo