Enemy’s Border

He loved her with a desperate hope.

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He loved her with a desperate hope
That made of him a mess —
He looked for every little sign;
She could not have cared less.

His dreams beset him in the night,
He’d win, whate’er the cost:
He told her how their life would go,
She told him to
Get lost

Old Song Lyrics, Age 24

Reaching out for someone who’s not there,
Walking down a path for two, alone;
Trying to make some sense out of it all,
Trying to make some happy thoughts a home.

Looking out across the lonely way,
Hearing waves that echo out your name,
I will dream again tonight, I guess,
But I’ll wake and find the world the same.

And all you are’s reflections
In the water,
Here and gone,
And never mine to touch;
All you are’s just sparkles
On the ocean,
Illusions that I think about
Too much.

Built a fire to regret this evening,
Watched the moths come round, and some get burned;
I guess there’s a lesson in there, somewhere,
But it’s not one, that I’ve really learned.

And all you are’s reflections
In the water,
Here and gone,
And never mine to touch;
All you are’s just sparkles
On the ocean,
Illusions that I think about
Too much.

And all you are’s reflections
In the water,
Silver light
That’s never mine to touch;
All you are’s just images
Enticing,
Illusion that I think about
Too much.

An unreal thing
I think about
Too much

Morning Watch

She keeps up her faithful morning watch
To see if things get better;
A cup of hot coffee, a favorite book
Whose words have often fed her —

She dreams of a life that is far away,
Where troubles don’t beset her:
And she would put him in another’s thoughts
If her own heart
Would let her

I Know You Love Her…

I know you love her, I have seen your eyes.
I’ve felt the fading hope you keep alight:
The comfort and nobility you prize,
The wrongful longing you know you’d make right —

For guys, we know each other’s secret ways,
And well I know the unrequited game:
The agony of longing through the days,
And nights of dreaming, hearing your own name,

As spoken by that voice you know so well.
I know you love her, but that you despair:
For what you feel, you may, or may not tell,
But it won’t move her, any time, or where.

Like perfect grapes you look on and repine,
Full knowing you will never taste
The wine

One Type of Artistic Fate

If I could paint a picture true
Of sunny day, and waterfall,
I’d surely give it then, to you,
To hang up in your favorite hall

I’d my pour my love into this art
So you would see it, and recall —
Then you’d walk by it, every day,
And never look
At all

lost him

she lost him, though he never knew
she thought of him at all;
so many dreams of what they’d have
have slipped beyond recall —

she sees him there, with someone else,
and feels a sort of stir,
then wonders what she could have done
to make him long for her

there is a type of tractless grief
that’s not on any grid;
to miss what she has never had,
and things she never did

a fire that burned for seasons:
summer, winter, spring, and fall —
she lost him, though he never knew
that she loved him
at all


© Andriy Bezuglov | Dreamstime.com – In love couple sitting on the floor holding hands

Crushed

“It’s just a crush,” they told him,
“You’ll grow out of it,” they said;
Well, it’s been thirteen years,
And there she is, still in his head —

For being young does not mean
One can’t tell false love from true;
Or know the ache of loving someone
Who does not love
You


[As is frequently true, the ubiquitous “they” were wrong – Owen]