The soul yearns for a deeper understanding. A desire to hold her close to me, feel her soul pressing against mine. The warmth this temporary being gives off. It makes the life somehow seem bearable, though she knows not how I feel.

My bosom aches at the sight of this precious and fair-skinned queen. To see her with another, there is an eternal screaming heard only by my ears.

How can you waste your sing-song voice on such an infidel? While it is apparent that I can never be worthy of it, this man is surely lower than I! His speech and act is an obvious cliché. Seen over and over in every person who claims their independence and thinks themselves unique.

It is a shame, and, at the moment, my words are kept behind these lips. For, if I were to ever speak what felt most true in my heart, I would once again be shattered.

It is better, yet, that I remain in silence and hope this pain to 'temper my resolve.'