Confession

I have sought—For what seems…an eternity,To but share…my open heart,And yet…thou know not of it,Nor even…of my love.One which I have held for thee,From a time…that knows…no end,And yet…tis unrequited,As though…it had never been.Yes I have sought—With every breath,To find the words to say,Which would express,What I have felt,Unto this very day.Yet, alas, thou know not of it,And though I truly feel this way,It has never meant a thing to thee,Nor even once…didst sway.Thy feelings…which thou hast for me,Whatever they might be,For thou hast never voiced them,If…in truth…they do indeed.Even but exist at all,Alas, I cannot say,For though I love thee as I do,I’ve yet…to find…a way.Of knowing of thy feelings,Whether true…or no,For thou hast never voiced them,Nor even once…have shown.That my feelings matter,And that…how I feel…for thee,Has a hope…of but the same,Being felt…for me.Yes I have sought—For time without end,To tell thee…that I love thee,To show to thee…I care,And yet…it seems…tis not enough,For thou seem not aware.For in thy silence…I am lost,Yet…in a quandary,For how I feel…all doth know,Except…perhaps…for thee.Perhaps—Tis not in thy nature,To speak of such openly,Yet…I but know…no other way,To express such…unto thee.Tell me—From thine heart of hearts,Yea…but tell me truly,Know thou not…of how I care,Know thou not…I love thee?For I have sought—For what seems…an eternity,To but share…my open heart,If thou wouldst only let me.Perhaps—I merely fool myself,If so…tis done, willingly,For even love not e’er returned,Would I still feel for thee.For I have sought—With every breath,To voice such…openly,And thereby but show proof,For tis better…I believe,That thou dost know the truth.Yea—Long have I wished,To hold thee,Here—Within my arms,If only to but show thee,That I mean to thee…no harm.For thou—Art my beloved,Many times…I’ve told thee so,Yet I fear that it is something,Thou choose but not to know.Yet such—I know not…truthfully,For thy feeling art…a mystery,Perhaps—Of such…I’ll never know,Unless…thou choose to tell me.For long I’ve sought—With every breath,To tell thee that…’I love thee,’With heart and soul,And all I am,Yet it seems…but not to be.Ever enough…for thee at all,E’er…to but convince thee,That such is truly genuine,So that thou wouldst believe.The feelings that I speak of,Of both my heart and soul,Art of the best intentions,And I would have thee know,That such art meant,For thee…alone. Written April 10th, 2000 © on Aug 31 2001 01:52 AM PST   0 • 10