The one I love fills up my journal pages.
It makes me sing to hear her say my name.
I have been chasing after her for ages.
Each time we get close, it’s always the same:
She tells me I’m the one she’s thinking of;
She tells me that she cares—that she adores me;
And waits until I offer her my love,
Then takes somebody else home, and it floors me.
It kills me. Kills me. It plants something dead
Inside my heart—a hole; a growth; a cancer—
That poisons every pure hope in my head
Into dead-end despair that has no answer
Except what will forever make me grieve:
The one I love’s the one I have to leave.
Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells