This is another poem about unrequited love.
Heartbeat
There is a rhythm to her
heartbeat,
a melody that makes a whisper
in my ear
that resounds like echoes
across the wide
blue yonder of our love, and I
exist in
the spaces that other faces
have hollowed out
and they I think might have
loved her too,
once in silence and once in
rage but nothing’s
left but pain.
I wish she’d write me,
I wish she’d live inside my
heart
like thoughts I leave unspoken
so
someday I’d leave them out to
run around the yard like our children,
with my eyes and her lovely
smile,
I see them often, but have
nothing to
content myself with this lonely
night.
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