Unloved Hearts
He does not beg for love at first,
Just quiet respect, soft and true,
From gentle hands he calls his own,
A mother's grace, a lover's view.
Yet love, he learns, comes priced in deeds,
In all he gives, in all he bleeds.
He molds himself to fit her dreams,
For fleeting warmth, for borrowed light,
For love, he trades his truest self,
Becomes their "should," forgets his "might."
In silent wars he stands alone,
And calls her chaos still his home.
He bears her storms, her fragile fire,
Her shifting moods, her distant gaze.
Yet in return, a breaking truth,
Betrayal wrapped in fleeting praise.
For though we curse in shattered pain,
Both man and woman seek the same:
A soul to hold, a life to share.
It's not the gender that's wrong,
It's timing that lies.
So he still loves with deeper ache,
With restless fire, with endless plea,
For none are wrong, just lost in need.
Learn his silence, hear his cry,
For unloved hearts don't live... they die.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
