You are my muse,
He said.
But you are a fool,
She said.
You are my life,
he countered.
I don't know what that means,
She said.
Neither did he;
He surrendered:
I love you.
She could not hurt him.
Her gift in reply?
Silence.
It goes like that sometimes.
If love is not reciprocal
It is nonetheless love.
We bow to that light
Even if our best gift
Is nothing.

One Single Impression