It is a secret.
This infliction of affection.
There was once a heat.
Now cultivated to ardor.
The sentiment of tenderness overwhelming.

I despise the feelings.
They are palpable.
Tasting sharp fervor.
The intensity swelling.
Threating to overtake my intelligence.

Who are you to burn me?
What is this impression you give me?
When can this fondness bear fruit?
Why do you kindle my imagination?
How is it that I expect sympathy and pity?

I do not wish you empathy.
Nor do I want judgment.
My intuition has already warned me.
I understand my role.
The sentimentality will slay me.

Hear my tale of feeling.
Never mistake passion for love.
Never give in to the need of affection.
It will lead to ruin.
Faculty will be lost.

Unrequited.
Dare I say it?
A feeling of attachment.
more than a crush, friendship, of soft spot
Love.


Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Ero, in the year 631 AF.