Sick with Love: A Heart Under the Weather

I woke at dawn with three words still echoing: “I don’t want.” It feels like I’ve spent a month of Sundays chasing shadows. I carry a sweet memory of you, but it aches like cardiac diabetes. My heart burns with inflammation and arthritis. Each rejection feels like an asthma attack, choking my breath. My mind reels between insomnia and blurred vision. Your “no” hit me like a stroke. I need more than medicine—perhaps a cure for this bipolar ache. I pleaded again and again. Your silence is a disease. My hunger for your love grows in this oven of pain. Even my doctor has no remedy for my syndrome of unrequited love.

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