8: Rome
wait for it
“My dearest—
“You might have sensed i was in love with you
from my drained complexion and stressed countenance,
my eyes so often filling up with tears,
“and yet, despite the burden of my wound,
despite the fury of that inner fire,
“now overwhelmed
by my great passion and compelled to speak,
i seek your help with this fainthearted prayer,
for you will be my rescue—or my ruin:
the choice is yours and you must make it now.
one who so holds you, one who will not have
a dearest, if not you, now sends you this,
who cannot, out of shame, reveal herself,
but if you wish to know what i desire,
it is that, nameless, i might plead my case
unrecognized as byblis, undiscovered
until my wish were certain to be granted.
the sighs brought on by no apparent cause,
my constant need to throw my arms about you—
and, if by any chance you noticed them,
the kisses that were more than sisterly.
i did my best—the gods will witness this!—
to bring myself again to sanity;
unfortunate, i’ve struggled for so long
to get away from Cupid’s fierce encounters,
enduring more—i think you would agree—
than any girl could bear.
