Unknown. A poem.
She does not and will never know me. She will never read between my lines. She will never walk the halls of my history. She will never cry a tear for me. But I have known her. In the briefest … Continue reading Unknown. A poem.
Tag: unrequited love
Tinder Time. A poem.
Flick left, swipe right. A pallid, Saturday night police line up of unambiguity, measured by nervous fingertip and amygdala. A feature-filled array of fatuous smiles and narcissistic natures, whereby motherly and mad skip hand-in-hand with the otherworldly and overwrought. Consider … Continue reading Tinder Time. A poem.
Brief. A poem.
The briefest of moments to us, passed between, and I was, for the briefest time, momentarily happy. I crave the briefest moment to spend with you again. For in that fragile moment, I am, forever, briefly sane. The All or … Continue reading Brief. A poem.
‘The All or the Nothing’ – Steve’s eBook is available now!
via Save the Poet! Try it out! Click on the link above to find where you can download it. If you love poetry, you won’t be sorry! Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading ‘The All or the Nothing’ – Steve’s eBook is available now!
Artifice of Love. A poem.
I wish she would read this artifice of love and know my asinine attempt to swim to her waters ‘festina lente’, my yearning to sweep her off her feet and cushion her with desirous imposition, is meant solely to glorify … Continue reading Artifice of Love. A poem.
Indifference. A poem.
Every indifferent look is broken glass, slicing my already severed heart. Your indifference, (bricks laid by me), is the wall separating our dual Berlins. Your indifference is the pendulum that crushes me whole: nothing left and nothing right. Every indifferent … Continue reading Indifference. A poem.
Ghostly. A poem.
Am I a ghost to you, incorporeal as mist, drifting on the fulsome breeze, far beyond your view? What would it take to anneal this brume, a somatic conversion to make me real? Your fugue is my grave; Here I … Continue reading Ghostly. A poem.
Stuffing. A poem.
The stuff of yearning dreams and wanton, empty years, stuffed to the seams, stuffed with regret. How much more stuffing could this vagrant heart beget, stuffed full to bursting, stuffed with loneliness. If you liked that, then you’ll love the … Continue reading Stuffing. A poem.
The Timely Fool. A poem.
Long years of suffering, so tinged with hope and fear. I have watched you from afar, but outstayed my welcome, here. Now, your door has shut so tight and my path to you is blocked. Now, I’m back to wandering, … Continue reading The Timely Fool. A poem.
Lottery. A poem.
These dubious numbers will not fall in line for me. Indeed, more’s the fool; those digits that summon up every heavenly aspect of you. A token parody of a prodigious, passionate girl. Just numbers spinning in my head and heart, … Continue reading Lottery. A poem.
Stair. A poem.
We stopped upon the stair, our furtive conversation like a tender questionnaire. She smiled and talked and stared and in the animation of her lips and smile and hair, I found a love that swelled long after she had left … Continue reading Stair. A poem.
Mirrored. A poem.
I mirrored you subconsciously, perhaps you noticed you in me. You mirrored me subconsciously, perhaps I noticed, but didn’t see. Neither mirror could reveal beyond the veil, our hesitancy. Neither mirror would let us read of love, of fate, of … Continue reading Mirrored. A poem.
The Truth. A poem.
What would I do if you belonged to another? No hanging tree exists that could free my heart from your beloved tether. Would I drown myself in the incumbent surf, or throw myself from the weary heights, dash all my … Continue reading The Truth. A poem.
Wings. A poem.
You endow me with gossamer wings, a loving benefaction granted; a gift that encapsulates and enables flight to peregrine places uncharted and exotic. But with so many destinations and arterial paths and so many cloudy possibilities, only one makes any … Continue reading Wings. A poem.
The Madness of You. A poem.
My futile and unavailing words cannot express the anguished, quixotic, melancholic, mad salience and utterly unquenchable need to hold you and love you as no one ever could or would or should. But here I am, alone. Thinking of nothing … Continue reading The Madness of You. A poem.
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