I mustn't know love.
I know not the intentions.
I must not know love.
For my eyes do not see.
As my mind does not remember.
The features of shallow waters escape me. The details of of the waterbed vague.
A murky reality.
I do not know love.
For if I did her image would be burned into my memory. Not narrowly escaping description. Like a photo copied too many times.
I suffer from a bordered haze.
A wicked dejection of thought.
A borderline identity, singing and crying. Fighting and dying.
I must never know love.
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