A few days a part with time to think.
The results of my actions are starting to sink.
I try to move on despite that nagging voice,
wondering if I had made the right choice.

As I sit here thinking, this poem forms despite,
The feeling of sinking, and how I hate to write.
This is an outlet of the past, something I had let go,
but the drought did not last, and I have this to show.

I hate to write with form,
I despise of its grace.
But just as an impending storm,
I must finish the race.

I took her advice and rethought what I need.
But the reoccurring thought is how I must supersede.
Even the nights of which I don't spend alone.
My actions of betrayal I cannot condone.

Even when with her, there is a silent voice.
Hating me for making the wrong choice.
How can I stay with one when I think of another?
How long can I maintain this halfhearted cover?

I do not expect a reply, or even for this to be read.
I know our brief past, you wish to be dead.
Writing for me gives a final chance,
To express what I feel and finish the dance.

I know what we had was brief, yet true.
And I promise that I was genuine with you.
I am not trying to **** back into your grace.
I will do my best to give you your space.

I thought these poems I would limit to three,
Then you would never have to hear from me.
But maybe your reaction is worse than I intend,
Since after the last, you deleted me as your friend.

Even without you, I cannot stay with her.
With this everyday I am becoming more sure.
Although last week I had been with two,
I would rather have none if I can't have you.



Silly I know, you said you barely cared.
This was a thought you clearly shared.
Barely phased by me, you seemed to leave,
Leaving me with nothing to retrieve.

I hope you take all this with stride.
And realize how it kills my pride.
To admit such feelings when I attempt to be so tough.
And knowing that nothing I say will be good enough.

So for my actions I am torn on what to do.
When one has told me to stay away from you.
Another of whom you seem quite fond,
Told me to attempt to regain that bond.

As for me I don't know what to do.
I will do whatever is best for you.
I just don't want you last thoughts of me,
to be of a person you could not genuinely see.

You are an amazing girl, and deserve much more,
Than all the things I have had in-store.
We just moved so fast and I never had the chance,
To figure out what I wanted from our dance.

Being with you felt so right, and it was hard to ration,
the true feelings of my confused passion.
For your sake I am glad I told you then.
But I needed more time, despite no good when.

If I had more time maybe I would have silently chose you.
That is what my heart wanted me to do.
But you seemed disinterested, and I blew that chance.
And I had to come clean before we finished our dance.

So this is the second of three, and I don't expect a reply.
If I do not hear from you again, then I will let this all die.
I contemplate not sending this to give you your space,
But I feel that I must, as a “just in case.”

If you reply with a “stop,” after my send,
The trilogy of poems will come to an end.
I say this merely as a virtual knock.
I do not wish for this to end in a virtual block.

If you do not reply to me, there will one day be a third stance,
And it will truly mark the end of our dance.
I know I should not send this, but I must despite,
because I can't leave this behind without a fight.

I know for you I may be making this hard.
Perhaps this poem is an unfair card.
But I do not write this for style, or for something to do.
I feel compelled to write because I never got to say goodbye to you.

So here's the final verse in this second song.
If you wish it, I will not be here for long.
I conclude with a reluctant push of the send.
I hope one day you can find a dance that does not come to an end.