I want to feel the joy of nose nuzzles and clandestine kisses, I want love that swells and sways.

I stay silent, hiding my true theme: I love more than I should say. I want someone who’s not mine.

I think it best if I go away until something changes, otherwise, I’ll be ranting and raving.

(-I need to break out of my cell-)

Wish I knew how 🤔

I wish desire, I wish passion mattered. Any poem, any card, any piece of writing I’ve shared meant less than nothing, in fact, the attempts at romance were annoying.

Surprised? Nearly 20 years. So what?

I’m done.

He doesn’t even realize I’m already gone.

Waiting to bloom, my flower needs the sun’s light, but first, I endure the rain through night.