In the beginning she knew…
then she ignored it…
and now she realized she could no longer deny,
she admitted once and for all
that he was never
never going to love her.
Not really.
Not the way she so desperately yearned to be loved.
His love was more necessity than passion,
more duty than desire.
And even though this language has but one word for those two loves,
The difference between them was as vast as the space between the shores
of the widest ocean
and every day
she drowned again in its water.
This is really touching. What of with all these incidences of inrequitted love? I know better. even better with this poem. Thanks for the beautifull lines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beginning meets the end meets the beginning. Vicious circle. Caught in a tragic undertow. Told with composure, care, and with the eyes & heart of someone who's been there (or has the wisdom to see from afar) ... and that's what it's about. ~ sjg