I have forgotten what
it feels like to be
loved.
It is so odd and
most definitely sad,
as I still know so
substantially what it
feels like to
love.
My existence is so
unrequited,
for even when you
again shared your
body with me,
even though two years
time had passed since
our last dance,
the wall you built remained intact.
I searched every surface
in hopes of finding a crack
in the stone that,
with some effort,
could finally help me to
topple the blockade.
But your love,
or what I have (probably pathetically)
convinced myself
exists on the other side,
it is as well-protected and
well-hidden as ever.
So I soldier on,
fighting my losing battle,
feeling love for you,
the love from which
I am doomed to be destroyed,
shot down, blood staining the
ground
beneath me,
no shield of your love
with which my body,
my heart,
could remain intact.