knocking at the door of your heart.
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.