to the man i once loved: a poetry

Letter

I do give but no one takes.
You do fly, and I the walk,
to the wind-for the letter's sake,
contains my words love of talk.

I wrote the part of endless care,
and hoped you read my hopeless note
of pain and hurts of lone less dare,
I see to it and willed the mote.

I dreaded years and cursed the time,
and heard the wind with endless sigh,
with blank notes for my inmost prime.
I wished; I died for the no reply.