Love is never nearly enough,
is it ma’am? Is this unfortunate
truth the reality of romance,
or the failed logic of an infatuated lover
who’s passionately connected
to an unknowing victim
of his hearts’ endless affections.
We move in separate circles,
neither of which are fated to meet.
We are destined to always be apart,
and I am not content with that conclusion.
But without the exchange of dialogue,
how are you supposed to know my feelings?
You cannot read my mind,
but, would you ever really want to?
My mind is like a maze and can cause
even the greatest adventurer to become lost.
I would not venture inside if I were you,
unless you wish to be exposed to my feelings.
These feelings I long to express verbally,
but would you honestly give your time
to a man like me?
Ma’am, would you care to listen
to my heart if it spoke to you?
You are never alone.
Friends surround you around every turn.
I cannot approach you,
for my words would cause
great embarrassment, and your reputation
I would hate to hurt.
If only I could shoot you a message,
from my lips to yours;
a gentle kiss, purer than true love,
blown soundlessly across the room
to where you sit.
Maybe then you would know I am real,
for although we’ve never shared a conversation,
(barely a word has passed between us),
I wish to share with you a kiss
so passionate, that you remember me forever.
In reality however,
you will never know my name,
my identity, my number,
and although I’ve watched you so lovingly
since July and the wind of a warm Spring
is fast approaching,
you have never noticed
how much I truly love you.
You don’t know of my existence.
This here will be the fifth week
I have seen you,
and yet you have never seen me.
I have looked right into your eyes
and when you looked in my direction,
all you bore witness to was an everlasting emptiness,
and to you, that is all I shall ever be.
I barely know you ma’am,
and for reasons I am yet to uncover,
my heart has become hopelessly devoted
to you, and you alone.
Please, if you could,
relieve me of my torment
and say how you could never love me;
how I am beneath you;
a wretched worm undeserving of your affection,
who you would sooner squash
between your thumb and forefinger
rather than ever look upon.
Please, ma’am, I beg of you; do not love me.
I fell for you so easily
and I could not survive a fall again.
Ever since I looked into your eyes;
your sad yet beautifully
dazzling eyes, I have become
singularly devoted to you.
But if you were to feel as I do,
if your love was to become
as uncontrollable as my own,
the repercussions would be extraordinary,
for I would never let you go;
even if the world was ending,
I would hold onto you forever.
In this verse you are mine,
and I am always times infinity yours,
and yet, in reality,
such could never come to fruition
for we are not destined to meet.
And even though there was
never a greater love poem
than the one about this particular young lady
and her love struck poet,
in reality, never was there a sadder story
than the truth of this famed fiction.
So, although you can never love me,
please, at least remember me
as the man who loved you;
as the man who always will.
I am yours entirely ma’am,
in this world and the next.
Sincerely, your unflinching admirer.