Unrequited love Poems
Helianthus
by Mykah Cea
Confident and brave, your presence draws everyone in, but
Even then, your eyes were fixed on the sun. Your sun.
I wondered what you'd think, if you were to look at me instead.
At night, I found comfort held in your slender golden petals.
Your sun was gone, but your stem never bowed to the wind.
Yellow was never my favourite colour until I kissed you.
Tiny flowers sprout from your head, invisible until you get close
Enough that you're hooked on this new addiction,
......
Shepherd Lane
by J. P. Ehlert
I watch the midnight fog condense;
On Shepherd Lane I wait.
No stars assuage my solitude;
No winds dare stir so late.
But still I sit on Shepherd Lane
To linger with the dew.
Knowing well you’ve forgotten me,
But still I wait for you.
Half-Price Books
by Sienna Wong
We are told to never judge books by their covers, but what if I blushed for your dust jacket and stayed for your script? I read you until your binding was just as beautiful as the coat she hard-cover slipped around your spine.
I hardly read the novel's acknowledgments, but I should've figured there was a reason her name emerged twice in the dedications. I forgot that your seemingly perfect pages had been red ink-stained by her fingertips, she was your editor and I was simply a girl marveling at your words.
All of your punctuation was carefully orchestrated, and I wondered if she excised the spaces in your dialogues, crossed out your fumblings, your stuttering, her thumb and forefinger leaving spit prints like stamps as she flipped through your raw material.
I’ve only read the finished product.
Did she weep over your pages? The water damage left rippling scars on your paper. So when I’m leafing through the whole of you, all I can see are the ever-aching remnants of her touch.
She left eraser crumbs in your gutters, and you didn’t mind that her fingers excavated your contents, removed your run-on sentences until you spoke in the soliloquies every lover wants to hear. Sometimes I wonder which words are yours, and which ones she fixed.
......
Dear Crush: Please, Please Don't Read This
by Sarah Turner
I don’t know what love is,
I don’t know how it feels.
Is it wanting your lips on mine?
Or is it something more real?
I’m confused,
I’m blowing this out of proportion.
It’s like I’ve never met anybody else,
Oh, god I’m so desperate.
Waiting for hours on end,
Consumed by my so-called fantasy.
......
Last Night
by Paige Childs
If it was the last night on earth
Would I be brave enough
To tell you everything
My unfiltered love and admiration
Shining in the moonlight
Would you hold me tight
And whisper in my ear
As the night sky falls
Around us
Desire burning like each star
......
Shepherd Lane
by J. P. Ehlert
I watch the midnight fog condense;
On Shepherd Lane I wait.
No stars assuage my solitude;
No winds dare stir so late.
But still I sit on Shepherd Lane
To linger with the dew.
Knowing well you’ve forgotten me,
But still I wait for you.
analysis of infatuation
by elle jackson
i love you so
(i hate myself)
i admire your depth,
(i feel so hollow all the time)
your words send shivers down my spine
(yet i'm empty, formless)
i'd shout about you from the rooftops
......
Drunk tank
by Lee Grabbe
I'm whirling
Whirling
There's this taste
So foreign on my tongue
Though sweet
The world zips past
Me
Whirling
You
An anchor in my dizzying
......
Half-Price Books
by Sienna Wong
We are told to never judge books by their covers, but what if I blushed for your dust jacket and stayed for your script? I read you until your binding was just as beautiful as the coat she hard-cover slipped around your spine.
I hardly read the novel's acknowledgments, but I should've figured there was a reason her name emerged twice in the dedications. I forgot that your seemingly perfect pages had been red ink-stained by her fingertips, she was your editor and I was simply a girl marveling at your words.
All of your punctuation was carefully orchestrated, and I wondered if she excised the spaces in your dialogues, crossed out your fumblings, your stuttering, her thumb and forefinger leaving spit prints like stamps as she flipped through your raw material.
I’ve only read the finished product.
Did she weep over your pages? The water damage left rippling scars on your paper. So when I’m leafing through the whole of you, all I can see are the ever-aching remnants of her touch.
She left eraser crumbs in your gutters, and you didn’t mind that her fingers excavated your contents, removed your run-on sentences until you spoke in the soliloquies every lover wants to hear. Sometimes I wonder which words are yours, and which ones she fixed.
......
Last Night
by Paige Childs
If it was the last night on earth
Would I be brave enough
To tell you everything
My unfiltered love and admiration
Shining in the moonlight
Would you hold me tight
And whisper in my ear
As the night sky falls
Around us
Desire burning like each star
......
