From tall steeples church bells' ring,

Cupid's arrow has a painful sting.

And still of you I long to sing,

my heart glows blue, a crystal bling.

To stay away, I could not endure,

for this affliction I know no cure.


But writing soothes and numbs the ache,

red-hot coals, thrown in a lake.

Still, no lake is quite so cold

to quench these embers, truth be told.


When you walk in, I feel like I need an inhaler

- instant asthma - your eyes make stars seem paler.

Every time I make you laugh,

half of my soul meets the other half.

I said I'd quit, that these poems are done,

but I relapse, sentimentality has won.

In the morning again I'll say:

"There is no us, there is no way",

But evening melancholy crystallizes into rhyme,

the urge to write keeps winning every time.

Like an alcoholic taking a shot every other day,

I can't get over you if I can't get away.

And I don't want to, no matter what they say,

this fatal addiction - I wouldn't have it any other way.

Even if I get on my own nerves during day,

the nights are ours, as sleepless I lay.

Up until 3 am, thinking of the perfect metaphor,

for the call of my muse I cannot ignore.

So, call me silly, call me a fool,

I'm a romantic, under love's rule.

Like a foreign language, I've learnt to read your face,

the changing expressions, synced with conversation's pace.

I can tell when there's something else on your mind,

or when there's a right word you're trying to find.

The way you raise your eyebrows at an interesting story,

or burst into laughter - my heart beats away to glory.

The way your face lights up, when you're making a joke,

and that lingering smile, even after you spoke.


Your speech dynamic, I know the melody,

the rhythm, the places where pauses will be.

Like a living book, I study each phrase,

a fascinating read, to get lost in your gaze.


I can't find a flaw, not a single misspelling,

no irregular verbs, just a story for telling.

And what a plot, a writing style that captivates me so,

A page-turner, every paragraph and row.


I speak many languages - learning them is fun -

but the language of you is my my favourite one.

My smiles keep getting lost on their way to you,

ending up everywhere except where they're meant to;

You're a Northern star, unreachable to ships at sea,

but an indicator of direction, of where they should be.


Like petals of cherry blossom the wind blows away,

they're too fragile and light, to be able to stay.

I envy the breeze that caresses your face,

softly, like the gentle touch of fine lace.


And my smiles wander, disoriented still,

sensing the space between us, that they try to fill;

a bridge of smiles, held together by hope,

a love letter in a transparent envelope.


So I keep waiting, like a bud awaits the spring,

hopeless yet hoping, a bell on a string -

a silent melody, safely stored away,

waiting for Dawn, for the light of day.

Heartbeats in my eardrums, the rhythm of despair;

nobody ever said love was fair.

I know you are poison, I am well aware,

yet I cannot bring myself to care.


I clutch this rose, whose thorns bleed me dry,

drunk on the scent, so high I fly.

The crimson petals and blood drops that fall,

a lonely violin melodies a call.

Like Fire, the thorns burn into my palm,

I'd never let go – you are my calm.


At your command, a hypnotized thrall,

my soul, my love, you can have it all.

A dream, a dream! this must be it –

it overwhelms me bit by bit:

Sparks to stars to supernova light,

frost to 'flakes to an avalanche in white.


– My thoughts – in pieces – incandescent shine –

Conflagrate – this fantasy – finally mine –.

It's ironic that I keep addressing

these poems to you, to whom I'm confessing;

yet you will never read a single line,

just like you won't ever be mine.


We haven't much in common, truth be told,

you're a go-getter, and I'm not that bold.

You are the Fire - I merely smoke,

you're the real deal, I'm just a joke.

A reflection, a shadow, a distant dim glow,

the inklings of frost on a winter window.

Broken up pieces of soft sea glass,

a whisper that quickly will fade and pass.


You wouldn't even like this fluttery rhyme,

these wings without bodies that fly into time,

disappear in the veil of an anonymous abyss,

ephemeral sparkles that no one will miss.


My soul trickles into every verse;

not for a moment did I regret this curse.

It's bittersweet, this lovely pain,

your presence is a diamond rain -

sharp and brilliant, all in one.

You are the Moon, but also the Sun.

They ask me what I like about you -

as if it could be said in a sentence or two...

As if words could even express,

all the ways in which you make me a mess.


Oh, mad heart, if you could just quit

wishing and yearning, just for a bit.

I need a rest, from this lasting ache,

to stop thinking about him, asleep or awake.

Just give up, just don't, there isn't a hope,

you delude yourself, just start to cope.


"It's better to know then to keep wondering" -

but could I stand the rejection's sting?

Just holding these feels, it's too much to bear,

Sorry, can't help it, I simply care.

This way, at least, I'm the one to blame,

this way, I don't have to face the shame.

Somehow, it feels, just like control,

I'm hurting but I made the call.

Giving up and losing are two different things,

one pain is dull, the other one stings.

This way you won't feel sorry for me,

this way I get to keep my dignity.

Gracefully retrieve, and bow my head,

it's better, for all, that nothing is said.

I can't fight for you, that's not how it's done,

stubbornness isn't how love is won.

Perchance, I pray, I am mistaken,

From this bad dream, I might be awakened?

You might be braver, reach out first,

finally quench this maddening thirst?

Oh, it's a fool's heart speaking again,

a dreamer's mist; wondering "when?"

when will you notice, what a blindman could see,

what I feel everyone notices already?

Darling, answer my silent plea,

don't be cruel, I pray thee.

For when you look deep into my eyes,

you must know, there cannot be any lies.

It's cowardly of me, to leave it to you,

Sorry, again; that's all I can do.

I'll stay nearby, since I can't get away,

an ember of hope, a dawn of a day.

But regardless of all, I need to say,

thank you, my muse, my sunlight ray.

You never let down your guard.

Charming and polite; a poker-face behind the card.

Around you are walls of smiles and lies,

a fortress in which the true you hides.


I wonder if you are a little like me,

behind that mask of "always carefree".

I think there's more to you, for the little things you say,

quietly, in the evening, more truthfully than during day.

You're a little too perfect, to be fully real,

and I'm dying to know - what is your deal?

You keep declining, to join us and drink,

you must have your reasons, and that makes me think.

I won't drink either, since it's of no use

in forgetting about you - it just lights the fuse.

Though it would be easier, to just blame the liquor,

and the liquid courage, that makes it all quicker.

But there you go being a Good Influence on me,

my Silent Suffering, my Penance, my Ecstasy.