Indeed I loved her, I’d write to tell,
Hoping she would notice how to her I am kin,
She’d enjoy, then read, then see my hell,
Would see it, then pity, and her heart I would win.
I searched for things to scream and yell,
Watched other’s works, to see her smile in
Light of other’s lines, to tap the well,
Which cool water flows, to quench my thirst again.
But the spring doth run dry, I wanted more of
Other’s beautifully crafted works, though none
Of mine would cause her heart to flutter like a dove.
I had nothing to my work, I was, and wasn’t, done.
But the heart spoke to me and sang its sweet song,
“If you force feelings of love, they’ll all spill forth wrong”.