Seeking Illusions Poem by Monica Morante

Sweat suddenly tripped from my eyes.
My heart, anchored at the ocean of the lost.
Hold on longer, I cannot;
hold on longer, I was forbidden,
because in the first place
you were not of existence -
just a beautiful work of art,
just an intricate piece of woven words.

Day and night, i ask myself: Why
in the more than 7 billion people in this world, why
In the more than 250 thousand words in the English language

Why are you my favorite person
and
why is 'never' my favorite word?