[!poem]Hmmm - The poem I'm about to post isn't exactly on-topic, but you could read it as on-topic if you replace the girl I wrote it about with Miho...

This poem requires a little background to understand... I was once in love with someone who (it turns out) wasn't in love with me... We were an intimate pair, and I took the intimacy as a sign that my feelings were shared... They then out of the blue announced that they were leaving me, and that there was nothing between us, that they loved me but weren't in love with me, and that they 'knew' I felt the same way... They were moving out in a month...

And thus it begins:[/!poem]

How can the heart be heavy
yet feel so hollow
as to break at a whisper?

So kind the words said
as to cut like paper
drawn across thin skin

There is no question unanswered,
All is known.
A plentitude of tears fall
for no reason?

Life often lacks
In fairness and love.
But even when both abound
I cannot express either enough.

Bound, I crawl,
like an insect I scuttle.
I am worthless without expression.

Today I die,
Tommorrow I feel sure
I will die again.
My heart betrays me.

Love in my life
Scars me
Yet I yearn for it,
I have a month to live.

Three times cupid hit his mark,
Twice in youth too playfully,
Short on time and love,
Fun but empty.

Now I find myself torn
A friendship that cannot be broken
A love that will not pass
A heart that will not mend
Not over time,
Not over distance,
Not after life.
I cannot think

My anger at myself
Surpasses the rational.
But in realising this,
Nothing is solved.

My sense leaves with my love
To live away from me
"It's not because of you".
Words try to heal.

They will not.

I am apparently confused.
Not "In love", I merely "Love".
I suppose all about me is not known.

As in love
as I had ever hoped to be
I am withered and made to blossom
By her touch

But it cannot be.

Still my heart, "please beat for another"
It will lay unbeating until that day.
So broken that day will come too late.

I cry
But the fault is mine

I have tripped
Torn my heart upon itself

Pain my solace, the other pole
Oposed if you will
To what I feel about you,
Yet so alike now.

I cry
But the fault is mine.

I dance a dread game of dispair
My heart beating in your hand
So broken and gray, it shrinks.
I am not surprised you do not see

I cry
But the fault is mine.

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