Perhaps this is love.
That has
always eluded her.
Crazy
And obsessive
at best.
The cynic's now smitten.
The love bug has bitten.
"Go away,
I don't desire you,
Not now.
Lest you turn my already dysfunctional life,
all awry.
And mess up the little that makes sense.
Do you like me
even a trifle?
Its hard to tell.
Its all I can do
to keep reeling under a spell.
One of my own doing
Where I create romanticism
out of mere kinship and concern.
In that case,
I'd much rather be spurned."
Unrequited is much harder
than the other varieties.
A masochist's delight,
I feel quite pathetic
as I nestle in bed
and try to sleep at night.
Heartbreak and the unknown
for a lethal combination make.
Why does she only have creeps
and emotionally unwholesome men
who gleefully hope to transcend
her boundaries that are self-imposed?
The good ones are left clueless
"What is it that we could differently do!?"
Somehow only the persistent get through.
Men are creatures of little patience.
And can barely wait.
They'd much rather start off
with a pure maiden
and a clean slate.
Sadly time is her enemy
all she can do is wait.
And fervently pray that the next one isn't entirely a rake.
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