Oh, this tangled web
of overcomplicated words
and unrealistic expectations.
Twenty six letters
woven so carefully
into feigned synchronicity,
and launched across the open sky.
Received with longing;
Oh, the people we could be..



To write for you is futile,
for you are not a man of words.
To long for you is useless.
for you cannot know my verse.
To hope for you is wasted,
for your language is not mine.
To love you is so wasted,
and I’ll know this;
In time.