What am I, when I can no longer make my lover shine? What can I do, when apathy brings us to ruin? How will I not to bitterness, when passivity does not arrest, the emptiness I do detest, within his restful form? Doubt, what a sickness- Thus applied to the heart! Age me quickly time, a test, to take it all apart! And my love for you, a treasured knick knack, on the shelf collecting dust, a residue of your experimental lust. Oh! If you regret me... if, you regret me, then do forget me. If not, then, what am I to you? When you can't muster an " I love you too". What can I do?