No, I'll not weep:
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!
-King Lear, 2. 4
Sometimes, the spark fades. You don't necessarily see it coming: it happens suddenly. It's something that has to do with names: you carve the name of someone across your eyelids; it becomes the only name you can pronounce.
Being in love means falling in love with a name. A name that one cannot but see all the time, every time. Then, the loved one changes her name and you are left there, doomed, the name painfully inscribed in the flesh.
The crown of love: it makes us feel like kings: it can also make us fall in madness, dethroned, eyes plunged out, like a Shakespearean old king, under the tempest, naked, hurt and mad.
Picture Lear. Under the storm, blind with pain. "You pray for rain/I pray for blindness".
The crown of love: it can also be made out of thorns. It pierces the mind, making blood run like tears over the face. Love can make even the proudest kneel and beg for forgiveness.
Such poverty, when the crown has fallen from you.
Such wounding madness, to fall in love with a name.
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