well aware, she didn’t feel the same.
Why then, did it never seem wrong
spending hours with her thoughts, in vain?
The happiness would show on me
each time her thought raced my mind;
A fool could tell she was special,
even if he were blind.
They said I was being silly
and this was a stupid waste of time,
yet I paid no heed and penned my foolishness
in senseless rhyme after rhyme.
I said I’d make do with her memories
if I couldn’t have her forever;
Just one random call could lift my mood
when she obliged, if ever.
All was smooth and hunky dory
for quite some time this way;
One call here, a message there,
life couldn’t have been better, I’d say.
But suddenly, after one such blissful chat,
I asked myself over and over,
“What kind of love was this supposed to be?
How could I be a one sided lover?”
True that she had looks that’d kill
and a charm, that’d hook you in a zap,
but you don’t enjoy life’s music like this,
you need two hands to clap.
I pondered hard over my dilemma,
asking myself each night,
“How could everything be so wrong,
yet feel astonishingly right?”
The answer was way too easy…
My love wasn’t incomplete.
Her love had taught me the art of walking alone
on that beautiful one way street.