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It is burning me. Burning my soul. It is not fire, Nor anything of the sort. It is love In the form of a slow, painful death. My lover does not feel this pain. It is unique to me. Burning. Burning. My curse, That binds me, And pulls others away. My lover is no more. Not dead, though. Not quite. But not my lover anymore. Dead to me. This curse! Why must it hurt me so? Love is supposed to be painless to be in From all I have heard. But my curse follows no rules, Unless they cause me pain. Burning. Burning. When I find a new lover, It will remain as it was before. And my new lover will leave. There is no point