Commerce

The weight upon my back is not my soul,
Nor does my self crush down on me at all;
On me my disposition takes no toll,
Nor onto me do my misfortunes fall.
On you, my dear, however, I must fear
That all I do is weight and painful woe;
I cannot doubt but, when I wish you here
You have no wants except that you should go.
Why is it that I feel this way, and yet
Despite my certainty that I cause pain
I cannot will that I should ever let
You go? Would I so willingly cause strain?
No: for when you take this pain from me
I know I take on yours reciprocally.