Why does love have to hurt like this?
I put a rose upon your window with the sun
And I don't know if its chastened kiss
Against the pane meant something to someone
Like you. Would you hold me again,
I, who decided to cut you, and who wrote you
An entire play, or rewrote one? Deign,
I ask. Rise, I pray. But I can't even quote you
And know you'll answer. You said something like
Sorry. You said something like tenderness,
But I can't accept "like", you know, unlike
My younger self. I cannot stress
Enough, how much my longing bloomed
Each second it should have been appeased;
And you changed tunes and said "It's doomed,"
But I can't see the day I'll be released.