maybe
you've-had-it-right
all/  a/    long
i. don't. know.
how.
toslowthislove;
D.  O.        wn.
~~sp~in~
sWEll
some\shallow\attempt
《 》》 to inhale》
your <lips>
in. my.      mouth.
fing er s on
my _ veins
thighs@myshoulders
your )( redolence )(
your-hair
the mellllllttttt
we = feel
your °look°
my
STare
& who w{c}ould
ever
(want to)
For _ Get
that¿
[my] dear

A cigarette that promises
to satisfy but turns to ash,

A nicotine addiction that
promises to be harmless
but inflicts damage,

Lungs that promise to help you breathe
but leave you gasping for air,

An "I'll always be here" that
"is never there"

A gardener that never waters his rose,
and so the rose dies without proper care.

I wanted to love you,
But I never got the chance.
You played off my affections
As if what we had was happenstance.

We were never going to be amazing,
But we sure could've been good.
Amongst subtle touches and star-gazing
Lied the words I wished to say but never would.

And I've been told by friend and foe alike
That I can't blame myself for your reluctant heart.
Though, if I could just break this wretched cycle,
Maybe we could've avoided this from the start.

But it's what I do - I trip and stumble,
And all my strategically-placed walls begin to crumble,
As I fool myself into believing
That girls like me can end up with boys like you.

And as much as I hate to admit,
I know my soul is that of a poet,
So that loneliness will surely be my destiny -
Though I pray my tired heart may forego it.

But fate is a demanding thing,
And even the most minuscule chance at love
Will be dutifully executed in a timely manner,
While the cosmic audience nods in approval from above.

Passed  a  neglected  garden  of  late.
It  seemed  in  quite  a ­­ sorry  state.
Some  men  came  to  make  some  notes.
But  seem­ed  to  give  it  little  thought.
Up  on  high  the  grasses  gr­ow.
Beneath  the  windows  row  by  row.
The  other  plants  just­ ­ cry  with  pain.
I  guess  we'll  never  grow  again.
They  ha­ve­  taken  up  our  space  on  the  ground
Like  an  advancing  ­army  I'll  be  bound.
They  are  taking  our  water  Oh  my.
As ­ they  journey  to  the  sky.
Perhaps  it  soon will  be  resolved.­
And  peace  will  reign.
Once again

Keith  Wilson    Windermere.  UK.  2016­.

Dolefully trudge to my chamber this night.
Carrying burden of this inimical plight.
Scrawling as a means to drop this weight light.
But alas, who will read these words that I write?