Poetry

Unrequited Love

A spark in the darkness,

A burning inferno of young love and flashing eyes.

The world spins as we grow swallied on cupid's poison,

For which there is no cure.

If an antidote did exist,

I would crawl through Tartarus to find it,

For it would be less torture to do so,

Then to be unable to say I love you,

For your heart belongs to someone else.