Love Unrequited

Love unrequited is cancer of the soul.

I was done and cured. 

In remission of this love unrequited, I thought.

But then like a butterfly puzzled by the flower, my thoughts rustled with curiosity.

Where might he have gone, what we may have discovered had I known, and lighted upon the center of nectar’s supply? 

Perhaps I’d have spread more joy as naturally continuing on my way, simply resting in flight, understanding my part in play. 

As always, true nature dictated this butterfly dance, difficult to capture beyond patterned predictability.

But artful as you are, you must understand I’m comfortable being adored.

I was only once fooled into captivity. 

My net has grown larger and I’ve stopped believing in the haze. 

Unrequited love is like blending into the scene unnoticed

Next to perfection were recitals where we all did our best to steady our knees shaking behind the piano grand, beneath the towering ceiling with stained glass reflections imprinting insatiability onto our sub-conscious. 

Had we known there was medication to make you want to attend and participate and applaud, we’d lifted you out of your pit and fed you manufactured happiness. 

I sat down at the grand again, hiding from taboo coupling of sexes all the same, watching them interact with champagne flutes in hand. 

The celebration was one of them owning their celebrity.

They were known for living in the moment.

The were unapologetically themselves as benefactors of freedom and peddlers of coke.

I wanted to play but then they would expect me to perform. So I sat running my fingers lightly across the keys—afraid to make a noise should it be discovered I had no taste.

I will escape from here just the same.  Once you run from one world, the next world wants to convince you other world doesn’t exist.  There’s nothing beyond beautifully lit verandas with cascading ivy and colorful flowers framing the most beautiful men. 

But you see, my performance said something that day.

I played the wrong song, classical piece from a prior life—while judges frantically flipped through the pages to find where I had gone. 

Love is an intricate pattern etched by nature

And now here I was, in a huge cathedral, hearing a majestic trombone.  Heralding the purest of intent, ushering in handcrafted toy soldiers constructed from empty spools of thread carefully lined with glitter glue. 

This was my world, perfectly engineered by my mother’s hands. 

Yet, the material was painfully fashioned according to a pattern specifically chosen for an imposter to wear.

I winced at the sound of sharp scissors designed to cut cloth for stitching together something grander. 

Ill-fitting beauty, I’d settle for daydreaming that dirty he held me, watching me play.

Lovelifelinks.com knows that one-sided love unrequited can be a difficult and lonely experience.

Remember, you can feel love anywhere. Anytime. All the time.