Passion Unrequited

Revisionist historians agree:
Our passions, unrequited, rose and fell,
But only insofar as we neared Hell
When both of us recanted suddenly,
Abandoning our dreams. So we were free
To tell each other what we shouldn't tell,
Revealing everything. This went so well
That now I fear you, and you envy me.

Some nights I dream about the end of time,
Believing I still love you. I am caught
In spirals of regret; you never fought
For my affection, and your other crime
Was loving me, a love pure and sublime.
Who knows what really happened? I do not.