Grief: As her lover, how much did you love?
Lover: To my own death, as nothing in life can measure the magnitude.
Grief: As her lover, how much did you promise her?
Lover: As much as I can be a fool, though never did I wish to replace what she never had?
Grief: As her lover, what did you give her?
Lover: Too many promises, since in being a fool I have regretted everything that I couldn’t accomplish, even if I did accomplish everything.
Grief: In being her lover, why are you her lover?
Lover: To be nothing more than an arrogant fool, who promised the world, though wanted nothing more than to love. Saving her has remedied nothing in her heart. Giving her joy has brought sadness to myself, while she looks upon me to never leave her in ruins. Only wanting to love her, and I have lost everything of her. Only wanting to love her, and I have grieved more times than I should. Wanting to love a woman, and through saving her, keeping her protected, has made all things less beautiful. Too many promises. Everything fulfilled. All vows cared for. Yet, the fears on her end kept rising.
Modern Romanticism 