He was a sucker for hugs
Long walks with fingers entwined
He found reasons
Inconsequential at best
To sense skin on deprived skin
A beat on a lonely heart
Longing for a love he never recived
which made her wonder
How would he know when he found it,
When Love picked him out
From inbetween the clutches
Of a crowded room?

He wouldn't,  is what it was.

Perhaps his ignorance
Was the reason
He dragged her by the ribbon
She used to tether herself
To the heart that overlooked her existence
Perhaps he truly never meant
To write through his journal
What it finally meant
To take someone for granted.