I CAN'T LOVE YOU

The burden of love is rather tortuous.
Flinging lovebirds between mazes.
Where they forever seek tranquility.
But the only asylum is their jailer.
I can't love you.

I may live at your feet.
That on my sweaty spine you thread.
Yet you never slip nor stumble.
Except on my silky arms in a sweet sleep.
But I can't love you.

I can watch over you in sleep.
swathing every winged assailant,
Either minuscule or metaphysical,
Whose pleasure is inspiring nightmare.
Until you breathe evenly to wakefulness.
But I can't love you.

I will be your concierge.
Ask me to do your laundry, If you will.
But spare me of your underwear.
Except used bra and panties.
Only those I'd wash with glee
But I can't love you.

I shan't witness your tears
For my heart it tears apart.
Nor shall I live to see you in need.
Else my heart make a lethal stumble.
But I can't love you.

Maybe you're my punishment.
That I may never spite love again
Or I love you too much to admit.
It doesn't matter anyways,
Because I can't love you.

PS: This is JUST a poem. It may not necessarily reflect any incidence in the poet's life. Reader's discretion is advised.