Unrequited - Poem by Robert Uy
Conversation comes in polite manners
And natural tones.
You of your early mornings
While I of scattering
Thoughts that border on nonsense
Debating with myself on a mind divided.
I babble, distraught;
Should I or should I not
Complement such aspect reserved
For poets' words and artists' eyes?
What with autumn and its golden flares
Burning your crown like a halo then and there.
Thus in laughter-filled sentences
This dilemma is masked in unintelligible disguise;
Little by little instead the moment
Is impressed on my mind,
Wishing it would never end.
On and on,
To never end this talk
How the sweetest voice can be
A knife thrust in my chest
Yet it is murder, this subsequent longing.
What Dushenne has given a name to,
Yours has dissolved the defiance from all
My peers and I;
A smile that begins from the tones
Of earth in your eyes
As you speak of funny anecdotes,
Sharing shortcomings with wild abandon
As if there I was standing
Your confidant, your closest friend.
Albeit in hindsight lies the irony:
Whilst I talk with affection
Of comradeship you spoke.
Talking in circles, round and round;
Lost in the boredom of redundancy,
Having dispensed of farewell's pleasantries,
On opposite direction you walk;
As free as the wind that takes you away,
Bound only by being blessed
To be amongst all of Heaven's creation
While I, on opposite direction, walk;
With tacit solicitude and its rubbish fantasies.
Turn on the radio, plug in the phones;
Searching the radio for liberation,
I find only more poison
Among the melancholic remedies it offers.
Fevered I am with the sickness
For what can never be.
On opposite directions we walk;
Naught of burden of memory nor nostalgia,
On your first parting step,
You have taken with you my heart.
Comments about Unrequited by Robert Uy
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe