They say an artist immortalizes
Their subject of affection —
Their lover, their companion,
Their muse.

Good for me; 
I was never a muse,
Yet, all my lovesongs are meant for
The same person,
My only muse;
His singularity being the cause of my vigor
But of my destruction, too.

As far as I may see,
I have accepted my fate of loving a person
From miles and miles away;
Smiling whenever he crosses my mind
(For he never leaves my soul)
And people ask me why I am so happy.

I am not happy;
I lament over the fact, every second,
That I might never find the love story with him
That I dream of every night,
And build up further every day.

However, I shall not stop.
I shall engrave his name into the hearts
Of everyone who relishes my work,
For I am screaming, at the top of my lungs,
My uncontained, wild desire to be loved by him.
I shall immortalize his worthy self
In my words, in my handwritten love letters,
In my poetry, in my half-diminished soul.
I shall always love him,
Because even though he is not mine,
I have surrendered myself to him.

- Udeesha
(ew what is this T_T)