to ask for a sweet hurt
to desire it
to want to feel fear and
bury one’s face deep into it
to receive the requested and
look wide-eyed and regretful

this is folly

to imagine oneself a sacrificial lamb of love
to crave the violence of wild romanticism

that is to go mad

know for certain, there is no promised good
we can only make strong petitions
to think the good is due to us

that is unreasonableness

to be injured by choice
to dismiss small and giant infractions alike
to hide one’s soul and think too low when considering self-worth

yes, forgetting that love is a gentle game
not warfare
surely, this is madness