Oh, how did she, with such finesse,
dissect me with her graciousness?
And with her kindness so impart
these sutures left upon my heart.
Her words rejected that which I
held up to offer and imply:
A meeting of two hearts and minds.
But how desire always blinds
the minds of men who simply seek
their ways, and never think or keep
in mind that hopes may not come true
by words so potent, and so few.
The simplest, “No, thank you, Sir,”
upon me does this pain incur.
So how am I to just discard
my thoughts for her? And now disbarred
from courts of love wherein I once
pursued her as the hunter hunts,
I’m left alone with only thoughts
of futures that will come to nought.
My visions of what might have been
between us both, now seem a sin
to keep and ponder. How can I
away from longing truly fly?
I cannot claim a pain unfelt
by others, but this stinging welt
is mine, and still it clings to me.
What could, cannot, and will not be.