I have never met anyone on whom I can pour out the love that my passionate nature
bestowed upon me. My feelings are strong and new, and are in that state in which the
mysterious law of human emotion requires that they should find an object on which they can
alight and rest. They rest on you, not by reason, not by calculation; they rest on you
because they have. My love has flown from my chest to find solace in you, either
independently of my desire, or so closely united with it that it is not possible to say whether I
love because I choose to love, or whether I love because I find myself loving….
My love, in departing my chest, sought solace in you. But fear, loves repellant, hath not
allowed its entry. And I, poor wretched soul am I! I have lost my heart to one who trembles
to accept it. My blood ever flows through my veins, my breath comes steady, but my heart
ah! My heart is bruised; It beats a sore purple, my days are overcast, my smiles, vacant. He
grips my heart in a painful grasp; I wince at the pain, yet revel in the holding.
But the day is soon coming when I shall be liberated either by his will or my own. I shall
not dwell in captivity forever. Rather, I will break these bonds and be free of a love that does
not deserve its title, or he will realize his cruelty and set me at liberty in either the freedom
of his arms, or by returning me to the sovereignty of my loves’ potential.