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Rated: 18+ · Other · Other · #1641752
This is a poem about wanting, loving and the inability to express love to someone
When was he conceived, who his parents are, I don’t know



All I know is that they are fortunate to have been with him from the start



To live through his trials and tribulations, the bouquets and brickbats



To touch him, hug him, hold him, soothe him, and berate him; just because they could



I met him when he was a teenager and I on the threshold of puberty



He made me feel like no one else could



I watched him from afar, admiring every word he said,



I have heard him speak to others, but I can never remember what his voice sounds like



I was too busy just looking at him



Is he handsome? Yes.



Does he take my breath away? Yes.



Does he know I exist?  Yes.



Does he know my name? No.



I want him with a fervour I can’t explain.



It’s been 2 decades since that fateful afternoon when I saw him for the first time.



He lived inside of me and among me, his friends were my friends but we never got a chance to talk



I was shy and much too aware of him



He bloomed from a handsome teenager to a man; self aware and proud, kind-hearted and strong



It made me retreat further into my shell



I saw him every Sunday afternoon.



I sat and watched as he made the crowd dance to his tunes



Did he see me watching him? Yes.



Did I want him to see me looking at him? Yes.



Did I sense some interest? Yes.



Did we do anything about it? No.



Now he is married, happily married, so I think



She is the luckiest woman in the world; she can touch him, hug him, hold him, soothe him, and berate him, just because she can



She can run her hands through his hair, kiss his shoulder, and bury her face in his chest



I am million miles away in a country far away from my own



He is constantly in my thoughts..I love him more than it is possible to



I want him to know, but I am trapped by my values



I know that life binds people with invisible threads…



Gossamer threads to be pulled and twisted, tied and broken



Threads of longing, of worship, that’s what I’ve been bound with



I have a connection with him, why do I think of him every minute of every day if not so



Maybe we weren’t supposed to be one in this life, but I am fortunate that I have memories of him



Someday I want him to know, I need to express this love inside of me



It breaks me with each passing day.

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