Nina

For my purposes, I will call you Nina though it's meaning, I cannot say, more so, I shall not say, it is my own as my heart no longer is. You've gone now, my Nina but are far from forgotten. I think of you often these days of Autumn when the breeze holds a remnant of your influence. Of a feminine grace that once touched my existence. But you, yourself, grew distant, and my days have never been so vacant, nor my essence so distilled. You've chosen a path, my Nina, which isn't much to be desired. And maybe when you've grown, you too, will understand that your only real truth lies not in what you pretend to be but who you really are. This denial breaks my heart, though you're the one truly dying inside. So my only comfort is retained in one hope, that one day our hearts will lie shattered together. But selfishly, I digress that I am breaking, too. You've raised me delicately only to throw me down and for my affections, I am crushed time and time again. And, curse you, I cannot help but love in utter opposition to your discourtesy! You've done me wrong, my Nina but I still do right by you. For that, my soul will sing on. I've found virtue, life, and love in you. I miss you, my Nina, and part of myself. For that reason, I cannot say...