every night, i lie in bed.
every night, i pray;
i pray you'll be mine.
i hate praying,
prayers are saved for the desperate

You eat with her at lunch
You buy her favorite food for her
You help her with her work
You know her favorite things
You chat with her all night
You joke to make her laugh
You offer gifts to make her smile
You are her shoulder to cry on
You are the one she trusts most
You gave her your heart
But at the end of the day
She doesn't see you that way

I stare into her eyes,
Still searching for yours.

To soar as mighty Jupiter
And ascend as no others have;
This folly strikes all hearts of men.
For when he rises from his tow'r,
His wax will falter, wings broken,
And he will plummet, Hell-ward bound.

Though human nature inclines this,
Would you rather live as a beast?
Most feral and soulless, fangs bared,
Chained neck and paw to cruel masters.
The beast trapped, it knows not freedom
Ever staring at the heavens.

Poetry is for the special ones;

The lonely and the loved,
The disheveled and depressed,
The fallen and the flying,
The muffled and the muted,
The broken and brokenhearted,
The dreamers and defiant ones.

Poets are never satisfied.