Forgive me, for words abandon this confession. Every line seems poor, every thought is frivolous… No words can depict the depth of my engagement, no words to describe it, only my speechless lips… I fear opening my fragile heart, for I fear to be misunderstood…
I believe my heart is sick with the purest of venoms. My shield has become too heavy to wield, my armour weighs me down. My battles have exhausted me and I’m worn-out. Thy kindness brought me to my knees, thy devilish gaze softened my heart. ’Tis the treachery of the Cupid that torments me with thy angelic beauty. I believed in my proof, but no mortal will wrestle the will of Gods. I was a fool to do so. My arrogance blinded me from the treasures I failed to acknowledge. My pride ignored the cure to my fardels. My foolishness ignored you.
I beg your sympathy for my misfortunes, for I’m the juvenal. I lived my life in the dark, entertaining the demons of the hellish pit. The Helios himself abandoned me. My wit is as unpredictable as the weather; my moods are as unstable as the sea. Sometime my presence is distant, sometime I’m cold… But “they say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better for being a little bad” (William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, Act 5:1). I built my life of walls and I’m not proud of it. But I’m tired of being safe, for “security is mortal’s chiefest enemy” (William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act 3:5).
Let this letter be for you, not for me. I find warmth in thee, that sun can’t give… Faith, no Gods can offer… My mistress, I no longer can conceal my inner turmoil… I need thee, like the falcon needs the sky… Howe’er I act as a jester on this world’s stage “And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances” (W. Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act 2:7). Love is tall and kneels to none. “When Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony” (W. Shakespeare, Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act 4:3). How could a mortal fool defy the Cupid and resist the fateful hands? I denied that love’s fury for long but love is unjust and waits for none. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind” (W. Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 1:1). Love’s blind fury my fangs abated and my lustful bosom needs thy breath.
Alas, holy angels plead for thy attention, for a mere mortal prigged thy heart… Demons clamor for the loss of thy soul and Devil’s eyes fall upon my back. For I stole thee from the claws of the ill… My counterparts reward me with the daggerish looks, for I wield the sceptre… But all’s nothing, compared to the power of thy soft kiss… “For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings, that then I scorn to change my state with kings” (W. Shakespeare, Sonnet 29)… “All days will be nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show thee me” (W. Shakespeare, Sonnet 43).
Now join my hand, and with your hand, your heart, for I love thee (Edited from: W. Shakespeare, Henry IV, Act 4:6). I love thee “with a love that shall not die till the sun grows cold, and the stars are old” (Bayard Taylor)….
Let this letter speak what heart fears to say:
“I love thee, none but thee; and thou deservest it” (W. Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 3:3).