It's not a good thing,
Not a bad thing.
It's just tragic.
To fall so quietly in love,
Only to fall quietly out.
It's not that there's no chance,
No possibility of reciprocity.
It's just that
I think
it's wretched work
to love a person like me.
But one day I hope to hear,
"My dear, this wretched work then, I'll do.
Because it's not wretched work to me.
Not if it's you."
YOU ARE READING
A Sea Shore Still Has Pebbles
PuisiA collection of poems I've written through the years and am still writing.
