Stop, I can’t fall for you, I’m not allowed,
I’m not allowed to speak out to you
For speaking to you would hurt me more,
bringing me the realisation it will never happen.

Instead I will sit here and write,
I’ll write you encrypted poems you’ve seen,
without knowing they’re for you,
a sign of how I feel for you.

But you don’t get it do you?
How would you know what I feel
when I don’t even know how I feel for you.

The simple answer is you wouldn’t.
You could rip my skin and hear it peel
and not understand that it hurts.
All you would do is see the process
and continue on your way.

I’m screaming for you to talk to me,
as talking to me would bring me a relief,
a relief that it wasn’t all in my head,
that I wasn’t assuming it all.

So end my emotional torture before
I put myself out of this misery and try again.