What happens to love not returned?

Does it die in the same way
the fish on the river bank dies?

Does it collapse under the
weight of all this air?

Perhaps it lives on, stuck
scornfully in an unwanted life.

Screaming, a banshee’s scream,
envious of the fates it preaches.

The curse of immortality seems
to be the fate of unreturned love.

To beat on against the rising sun.