knocking at the door of your heart.
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But You refused to open the door and let me in.
It seems to me,
the door becomes coated with ice at my very touch.
The first time it happened I thought you were asleep
to our potentials.
So I tried to rouse you a little;
But I have burns to show for my exertions.
Today I am standing still in the rain,
hoping you will have pity on me
and warm the frost which seems to ooze
from you at my very touch.
For helpless I stand;
Neither can I bash my way in,
nor can I catalyse the reaction by
which the compound LOVE is formed,
It seems too much a thought to contemplate.
That you have someone else in there,
Occupying that special position that
I so much crave.
The contemplation throws daggers at my ego.
Now I know of no greater torture,
Than to want and not be wanted;
To desire to love – not knowing yet
the reaction of the other party.