I stood outside sweating in the sun –

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,

or …!


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.


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