Ever since I saw you on that fateful January day, I knew.
I knew my soul was not worth saving unless it was bound endlessly with yours.
Every time I look at you, my breath seizes in my chest, and I cannot bear it.
I cannot bear to see you only in short glimpses on lucky days.
You will probably never know the depth of my desire for you,
how I long to be the ebony beneath your fingers.
I know that I am young and naive and foolish for feeling these things.
Why would you ever even take notice of me? I am nobody and you?
You are about to leave this place, a place at which I have only first arrived.
What will I do without your presence to keep my yearning heart apace of
all the endless, wretched days? Oh my beloved, if only you knew how every note,
every scale, every D.C. al Fine came into being from my bow only for you and you alone?
Alas, you shall never know, for I take this secret to my grave.
I am insignificant to you, but my earth revolves around your sun, oh Capriol!