It is in a way a pure kind of love
A fool's love, tho one which asks for nothing
That cures minds of reason and self coveting
Along with any other rational tools disposed of

I crave it sometimes, I'm ashamed to say
A heart that holds another so dear
It'd beat on my chest in hopes to be nearer,
Trapped in a cage for a crime, framed by the seconds passing away

Indifference, apathy, a shoulder so cold
A normal fool's heart would immediately know
That unrequited love cares little for its throes,
But my heart reaches out for its hand to hold

Someone asked about you
Or your paintings at least
I have to say
There's no difference to me
Between the fruit or the tree
They thought it was my work
So I set them straight
The artist I knew but can't say I know
A gift from a girl I don't talk to
Not out of disinterest or hate
But a need to set her free
With no strings tied
Before she confused
A cage for the sky

The ultimate judge is oneself
And I'm afraid I've found him wanting
What's to be done when you've found the one
But the thought of being with them is haunting?

A pure life and one condemned
I wouldn't risk tainting the cure
For how could one condemn the girl
That they would give the world for

I came upon a sight this morning
Barefoot beneath a street light
On a road made a tunnel
By black trees on either side
Fog was caught between their branches
And the tunnel grew dark
Dark as it narrowed
And silhouettes held eachother tight
But for a blurry glow
Red and warm and all alone
Right at the end of the shadows folds
Right at the end of the dark dark road
And the world is far too obvious
Sometimes.

No one is a strange fellow
He's me but how can that be true
If Descartes only knew
That I know that I'm not
He'd shoot me and tear this poem in two
Before scribbling cogito ergo sum.

I wish I knew him, No one that is
There's this hole that leaves me somewhat distraught
Between my heart and a soft tender spot
Where my soul used to play
And I think No one could slot
There, I feel kind of hollow without him

Yet No one is a stranger
Strolling streets draped in gray
I see his every blink, hear everything he may say
But I care nothing for his life, lot,
Or the contents of his day
He's nothing to me, No One

I don't think I like likes
I try to hold them to the side
But they creep in through the back
As my fingers dance
Disrupting what should be a simple act

They leak into my brain
And take the place
Of thoughts and emotions
In my writing race

I know what you like
I know the fonts
The alignments the subjects
The shortened prompts
The lazy scribble and romantic taunts

I can't help it I see it
In every poem I read
The best decays along with the trash
But try to run from a halmark splash

And it's there, it's in my head
When I'm writing
What they want and what I want
Are twisting and fighting

So I hope
that I'm just weak
And most users are stronger
Or indifferent to what others think