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Unrequited

Un: inappropriate
Requited : unrecognised

The love has fallen like the sword of Damocles and spilt my heart in two.

Love Disregarded
Ignored
Trivialised
Wasted
My lonesome heart collapses whenever we meet. Yearning for her.
I could write you a poem but it would never be good enough, for you are a poem

I could write that you are beautiful but my words wouldn't do you justice.

I could write how important and special you are but your value exceeds human understanding.

I could write how wonderful your mind is but my vocabulary is insufficient and weak

I could write how **** you are,
That my body belongs to you,
But my body, my self is unworthy
of you

I want to tell you how deeply I love you
But I'm unable to describe the depth of the oceans

You are the collective works of Yeats, Keats, Shelley and Tennyson.
In her sea of unrequited love I am flotsam—
not even wreckage with a story,
just something left behind,
adrift.

She is the water that carries me,
cool and untouchable,
vast and shining,
indifferent to the fragments she holds.

I do not sink—
that would be release.
I float,
caught in eddies of hope,
drawn near by a glance,
pushed away by silence.

There is no harbour,
no shore with arms outstretched.
Only the endless drift
beneath skies that never speak,
toward nothing,
from everything I once believed.

I am the forgotten,
the unchosen,
the still-loyal shard of something
she never meant to keep—
But can’t quite let go
I'm too deep
into poetry
I forget
my bank account
is empty
and yet
I well know
no poet
can make money
from their poetry

but I still write
with the greatest intensity
and have some pity
for the rich
who scorn poetry
(how they miss-
miserably!)

My pen
I'll hold dearly
content, happy
despite my poverty
 Apr 17 Jīn Sīyǎ
Leanne
In the stillness of this lonely night, I feel your absence so deeply.
Sounds of our laughter play in my mind, their lovely sounds creep in.
In my dreams, I see your bright smile, but when awake, I tend to weep.
It's me, your girl, wishing you were here, in my arms, forever to keep.
Though miles may lie between us this week, and my nights seem awfully long,
it's then, when I look to the stars above, that they remind me of your eyes shining into mine.
My thoughts are always consumed with you, which is where they belong.
I'm sending my love to you across the darkened skies.
Soon, in the coming days, we will again be side by side,
and all the pain of you not being physically near will subside.
Until that day arrives, I'll think of you constantly,
and dream of when you'll be here holding me.
RL😘
Loved or needed—needed or loved?
Does it still deserve to be a question?
This doubt will never be erased
from the human language.
It burns from inside
reducing plans to ash.

Do they seek to heal their broken thoughts,
or do they want to stay in hidden safety?

It’s unclear how to love all the sketches
made by routines, invisible seconds,
trivial matters
picked out from life
like slimy red, blue, and golden fish,
slipping through cold, wet fingers.

Existence as a heap of doubts
punched by blinding moments
bringing elusive clarity
that dims and flares again and again.
Needed or loved.
Loved by need,
an unbreakable union
without a sigh,
without rhythm
as a sharp dissonance.
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