The rise of Unrequited

It has been a day

A week

A month

A few months

Since I pined like this

The insolent magnitude of selfish hope

And the heavy curtain of foolishness

Drives me to agony

Making up stories as the day passes

About what was and was not

What is and is not

What could be but would not

What is unreasonably sweet

And exceptionally stupid

It hurts me to hurt like this just when I thought I was immune

To your existence

It is a new low, the absolute thump in my heart

Wanting to give up everything and wait

It is a new low, the final feeling of recognition, of your voice

As a potential playlist of comforting sounds

It is a new low, the very uncertain words that I think

Of saying to you, wanting you to know

It is a new low, when the long despised unrequited shows up in my thought

Noticed, ignored and then thoroughly trampled

It has been a day

A week

A month

A few months

Since I wished there was not a word like unrequited

A word for many words teaching me in ten letters what I never wanted to learn

Hope is as sinister as thin ice

Illusions of reciprocation seem like reasonably strong ground

Until there is a crack

And the ground beneath you slips

Or breaks

Or shatters

The ice cold waters of unrequited rise

Inevitability of fate and the quiet blow of hope

The last of my breath is these words

It has been a day

A week

A month

A few months

Since I drowned