No. I don’t love you.
And I don’t think I ever will.
At least not till I see it reciprocated.
Nevertheless, I like the way you make me smile.
As I told you, I haven’t done that in a while.
You say you don’t love me.
But I tell you; you cannot.
I am a work of art.
My beauty is my confusion and my soul.
However abstract it may be.
It is what makes me whole.
But they say, every work of art has a simplifying note.
Something that grounds the artwork.
So people can understand it.
You are that to me.
You took all my confusion and simplified it.
You ordinary man!
I always thought I had found the other piece of my soul.
And lost it.
But, when I saw you,
I am among those unfortunate few.
Doomed to linger around
Till the next piece is found.
But now I tell you.
I will have you.
And you will love me.
Because there will come a day when you cannot resist.
You will love the madness.
You will wade into the storm.
Knowing well you are signing your death note.
Because no one can love you the way I have.
Maybe because it is not love.
It is hunger.
It is thirst.
Like the parched Earth looks up to the black clouds.
And asks for a few drops of mercy.
Like the moon looks to the sun.
And borrows some of his splendor.
So she may light up her night sky.
You ask me why I love you.
You silly man!
Don’t you see?
You are the sun and moon to me.
The halo I told you about.
It lit up my day when I saw you.
The aura I told you about.
It still holds sway over my night sky.
You certainly aren’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
But monuments aren’t meant for backyards.
You cannot build your grave in a pyramid.
You want to rest in peace in the land where you were born.
Simplicity is the masterstroke in every work of art.
And you, you simple man!
You are the masterstroke.
Maybe now you know.
That there is no escape.
You will have to love me.
It is written.