For all the poems
written on the subject
of unrequited love.
There are far too few
discussed on
being the desire
of the affection.
A difficult topic
to build a
foundation on.
Considering,
you're suffocating in
debilitating silence.
How could I know
if the words were
never spoken?
Like counting birds
against the blaring sun,
its almost
an impossible feat
to accomplish
battling a massive
lack of knowledge.
--and with the
cataclysm raining
down on your shoulders.
Do you feel cold
and lost in desperation?
A silent hope built up
into a concealed bonfire.
Standing alone.
Burning alone.
Impossibly alone.
I didn't know.
The words never
left your tongue.
No promises made
No catharsis expressed.
Only lustful secret
clutched to your chest.
Sometimes solutions
are not as simple as
they seem.
If only I'd known,
If only I'd been told
long ago;
then maybe
this wretched ending
could have been
something beautiful
instead
of a juvenile mess...
I wrote this and then re-wrote this and then re-re-wrote it again. All because I didn't like how it played out on paper. I think I'm happy with it now.
Sorry If I annoyed you. :^)
