yet I’m suspicious of happy endings.
I think I am in love with you,
but you’re in love with her.
You come to me to talk—
to share your fractured heart,
and there’s only so much I can say;
truth: “I just want your happiness.”
Because that’s what love requires
(horrid thing that it can be):
that I must constantly push you up,
yet pushing you away from me.
You love her and she loves you;
I've no right of your love to claim.
I refuse to attack her virtue, your fealty,
or to selfishly self-promote.
You love her and she loves you.
To your happily-ever-after, my sacrifice I devote.