THE END

191 25 66
                                    

you haven't aged day,
now that i see you across the room.
your hair's grazing your back,
and i feel that time's yet to resume.
you don't know i'm here, do you?
i see you're pensive about my book.
what do you think? have i done you right?
i can't tell with that musing look.

i tried to do you justice,
hoping my potential could graze your wonder.
it was bold of me to try, i say,
nothing could, not air nor thunder.
you're untouched to me,
and to be loved by you is a feat.
i was, by you, i recall,
undeserving of it, i see.

"i hope it's what you like,"
i dare and speak to you.
and you turn with a wide-eyed look,
"though i'm scared of your review,"
you laugh, and i see no hurt behind,
eyes lingering on the shelves filled with paperbacks.
"i made of it some good content,
only wished i could love you back,"

and there it is. the lie.
why do i continue?
you see it in my fleeting gaze,
the echo of the untrue.
"no, you did," you say to me,
"you just realised it too late.
you're the kind to cry about having no control
but then leave it all to fate,"

are you... mad?
i sense it in your eyes.
"i don't know what you mean,"
was our friendly second a guise?
it's to your deserving,
if you are indeed vexed.
our miscommunication's a predicament
that would have anyone perplexed.

but you sigh instead of answering,
i realise you're done trying for me.
i'm sorry for having tested you,
i'll leave and pick up my debris.
it's all damage and nothing but,
i hear it when you you sigh.
your effort for me has flown;
you're sure i'm not worth the try.

you leave my book with the other copies,
turn, walk, and tuck your hands in your sleeves.
it's disappointing how even when we're not friends,
i can still manage to make you leave.
and my gaze will always linger,
always watch you walk away,
but my words never fail to discourage
as from me, each time, they stray.

and there, you're gone,
crossed the street and rode from me.
here i am, still alone,
still drowning in my sea.
it wasn't your job to help,
not your responsibility,
but you standing still and watching
was never a guarantee.

every touch has an end,
as well as kisses and hellos.
the best that we can do is change
in the seasons time bestows.
i was never attached to your string,
and mine wasn't to you.
our strings were simply intertwined
in romances not to be pursued.

luke

fin

𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐘 ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ ✓Where stories live. Discover now