I wrote this today, and left it in a silly place, it was promptly removed. I repost it here, in a moderately more appropriate location, to be found at some point by its hapless intended victim.
I love you, but not enough. I could never love you enough, no matter how hard I tried. I could let myself go lax in my studies, and devote all my time to the care and feeding of this love, but still, I could never love you enough. It's not you, my dear, you're not broken; you're too perfect to be broken -- the way you casually accept my wildest devotions and my most ludicrous moments of failure with nothing but a charming smile, or perhaps a wicked glance just breaks my brain. I am at a loss for adjectives when I am with you -- there are no compliments in our native language that are suitable to you, and the few I remember in other languages are damned near untranslatable, and we don't speak the same range of tongues. But, then, we hardly need to speak, do we? You always seem to understand what I mean. I could say "chicken chowder", and you would know I really meant that I was horribly depressed and heartbroken. Sometimes, I hear your voice in my head -- some bit of witty patter from another place, another time, and I smile to myself. Other pedestrians stare at me, but I hardly notice: you are the whole of my world. i love you, but not enough, and it scares the living shit out of me.
Without you, my prince, and that unholy tall kender, I would be an unredeemable bastard. You grant levity to my bitterness, and for your trouble, you are both held dear to my heart.

On a less happy note, I seem to have eaten a bran muffin which contained some insidious allergen. My head is pounding and my throat is swelling. *sigh* The only redeeming quality of mild anaphylaxis is that it isn't severe enough to kill me. This, too, I assume, shall pass...