0 - Unrequited [(2) 8/06/2008]

So, has it been long enough for everybody to forget about this place? Everybody gone? Good. Let's begin, then. I've always felt that poetry was in some way for writers that couldn't handle prose (er, don't mention that opinion to my poet friends), but i concede that it does make expressing one's feelings a bit easier.

This is just to say
all the things I never could
to you.

The half-remembered sentences
which came to me in dreaming,
and vanished

like dew

in morning sun.

This is me informing you
of all the
secret ways
I love you.

How the world seems as if
it is more full of light
when
you
are here.

This is to let you know
that the chambers of my heart
are empty
but for blood
and you.

This is just to say
to you
all the things I cannot say
to you;
to say them in

my heart

and in

my head.