One

One's duty cannot be avoided; I have tried my best to whiten his face - to an extent that I find most precious. For now, though he seems distant, blank, foreign - unloveable! - I find beauty in every ray his eyes cast upon me. I find luminous perfection in everything now. Oh, were I the same!
One's loving cannot be torn apart; there is this sphere that lets nothing in - or out, for that matter. But what I know, or perhaps, what I feign to know, is that everything is of the highest value, once in. How come it manages to pierce with undoubted power and safety and inhabits the sphere? Eventually, the sphere grows and grows, making room for another set of compassionate eyes. And thus remains the love unshattered. Mine is of a more invisible sort.
One's forbearance reaches the skies. I know mine is able to; but I feel no longer attracted to the idea of it. I wish I were...