It's so inconvenient
And increasingly rare
To take a quick moment
For a breath of fresh air.
With a step outside
Comes a torrent of cold,
Then I must run and hide;
There's no time to be bold.
I'll look at the snow:
Meandering flakes,
But I really must go
Before my head aches.
But the air inside's so dull,
Like a worn out old boot,
For my life to be full
Only of airless pursuits.
So I'll live out my life,
I'll undergo some despair,
Some pain and some strife,
All for those breaths of fresh air.
I'd rather take off my glove
I'd rather let danger be giving;
If life is not lived for love
For what is it worth living?
YOU ARE READING
Unrequited Love for No One in Particular
PoetryI'm in love with no one, but with that emptiness comes freedom for my heart to wander along with my mind.
