You are a victim of my cowardice.
Not one of violence, nor of circumstance,
but of this and only this:
That, too afraid to speak, I shy
away from honesty, from all confessions
that I ought to make.
Truths could be revealed to save us both,
and yet I stand, frozen as a palsy,
immutable and wary and altogether loath
to breathe a word of it to you.
I huddle in the shadows, hidden from your view,
petrified that you may yet see and somehow know
the nature of the unnamed desire that calls me,
draws me in, and, clutching, does not let go.
Yet despite this constant burning ache,
my lips will never part for my professions
of love for you—and here is why:
I am but a coward in the face of your rejection.
And so, unbreathed, go all my hopes for romance
with you—and so, too, all affection.

Unuttered, unbirthed, the fondness wilts.
It rots and festers, skews and tilts.
Until, at last, it twists to hate—to cruelty, to rancor—
the love pivots into anger!—
and I seek to make you suffer,
just because you’re there.

10/19/2012

Author's Note: I was experimenting with rhyme scheme here. This is designed to follow ABACDEFGFHHIGIEDCJBJ then dissolve for the last part into what are basically couplets. I had difficulty finding an ending. I would appreciate feedback as to whether it works or how it might improve.

Posted on 10/20/2012
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