Long Unrequited love Poems
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Written on April 13th 2025 for Sara Jama's Prompt The Cold Embrace of Death
Reverberated within the empty chambers of my soul,
As I soak my skin in a clawfoot tub, drowning in my sorrows.
Daring the waves to wash me away,
I lay barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of Merlot.
Dismembered voices and I shared a night of haunting memories,
As suppressed trauma resurfaces,
My life flashes before my very eye,
Murmurs of a soft lament of what could have been.
At that moment, I was drunk with clarity,
As I swashed the bottle swirling, a whirlpool of emotions.
The red-stained taste of tomorrow’s regret coated my lips;
In this state and plane of existence, my ghosts and I find solace
In our shared suffering.
I ask the Lord for respite from the unyielding ache
Of unrequited love,
Lying in stillness, for I am but a cast of your shadow,
Like a wilting deadly nightshade.
Breathless without rays of love to quell me,
Forgotten upon a dusty shelf,
Hexed by Eros’s wayward lovelorn arrow,
Left to wander this plain perplexed.
Pondering if you were both in cahoots,
All the while, the unbearable ache of my burgundy beating chambers
Spills into the tub.
Then slowly,
I sip,
I drip,
I slip,
Into,
The cold embrace of death.
Even though I've made mistakes,
There's nothing that I would change.
Because everything I've done,
Has led me to God.
If I change anything,
Would I ever be so close?
To hear your voice,
to be your host.
It's the most, beautiful thing.
And I have no words to describe,
the joy that you bring.
I've been a mess, for far too long.
I've built up stress, from a lot of trauma.
But I still find myself thinking of you God.
Holding on, I'm holding on.
To every word you've blessed me with.
Even though I've made mistakes,
There's nothing that I would change.
Because everything I've done,
Has led me to God.
Every step I've taken,
Led me to the day, that I sat and prayed.
Tears flowing from my cheeks,
Begging our creator to set me free.
Begging for my love to be safe.
Even without me in his life.
Nothing breaks a heart like unrequited love.
But what I didn't know at that time,
was the love you've shown me God.
You heard my voice,
crying out from the shadows.
I made a lot of noise,
and you listened to my problems.
Ever since then, you've been my light.
Even when it doesn't seem like it,
I'm trying my best to make you proud.
I just, I don't know how.
Even though I've made mistakes,
There's nothing that I would change.
Because everything I've done,
Has led me to God.
And I'll never go back to the way I was.
You've made me strong,
turned me into a fighter.
Something I'd been all along,
I just couldn't see it clearly.
You sent me angels,
you sent me friends.
Though it was only in my mind,
I know it wasn't pretend.
Don't leave me now,
I don't want this to end.
I'll figure everything out,
I just want you... to be my friend.
Please just be my friend.
Away, away, yet bound for love
And what, this hindrance hounding still
For feelings left but unexpressed
I hold back, yet against my will
And though I voyage in my search
I touch but what the surface knows
Afraid to plunge into the deep
Exploding as this feeling grows
But forge ahead and not hold back
I must if love is to be found
To reach my destination and
to not again run ship aground
Remembering as a youth,
the fear of unrequited love
When that moment of union
Lifts the room and all souls inside,
They light up like jewels,
And some—few—glow in sad thought
A warm greeting,
But somehow knowing they hide pain
An outreach—an effort to console
Followed by the release of confession
A fervent blush on the cheeks,
Droplets welled up in the eyes
holding in all the love
They try desperately to hide
The feeling right before that rain—
The knowing that it must be so,
A certainty of deep love and affection
Tasted on the brink of hot tears
2.6.20
Note: This one may be less romantic to some, but I believe that sorrow is probably one of the more romantic emotions. This poem is about witnessing unrequited love in a room full of happy people cheering on a union.
Poetry knows no age, as thee Marcia
Abramsohn write (by hand nonetheless,
a long lost art) inlaid with ambidextrous
zealousness impossible to identify,
which hand crafted artistically colorful
epigrammatic ghostly hint emblematic
of former exuberance toward English
Language..., perhaps other once
vibrantly familiar tongues wagging
less as tempus fugit slithers unseen
stealing most cherished, prized, savored...
commodity set to countdown immediately
post parturition, yet blessed for thee
to be gifted your four score plus four
amazingly graceful journeys celebrating
your existence replete with handmaid's
tales chronicling quotidian trials and
tribulations, yet still adept, buoyant,
cogent, diligent, eloquent, fervent,
gallant, hellbent, intent, jimmying,
kindling, loving, mustering, nursing,
outlasting...Methuselah (ha...if only)
lucid moments nudging awake
memorialized occasions, where once
upon a time (seems bajillion years ago)
innocence concomitant with naivete
throve, wherein unfettered dalliances
found untrammeled lasses and lads
absorbed with natural unbridled virgin
love whispering sweet nothings strictly
for respective paramour, (this of course
hearsay and speculation) promising each
other moon and stars ah...dusty fading
memories, yours truly can never recount,
(cuz mental illness co-opted, hijacked,
up-ended...adolescent maturation,
whereby agonizing crippling forfeiture jabs
silhouetted illusory oasis peopled with
all the golden opportunities left to wither
on the vine o'mine youth, which mirage
mocks escapist attempt into literary realm
invisible dead poets society regale an
existence bereft (nope, no App could
ever even virtually duplicate (even
approximate) sidelined unrequited love,
and no this marriage yields scant
satisfaction, which fantasy life as
Norwegian bachelor farmer could solve,
where living off the grid could remedy
forever being pennilessness, day late
dollar short dime a dozen dirt poor
dude dulling dufus...that's the news from
my Lake Woebegone...where all the
women...and children above the law
never get reprimanded.
(softly)
There’s a silence that follows every maybe—
a kind of ghost that sits beside you
when everyone else has gone home.
I’ve seen people walk away
with my laughter still on their skin,
with my words still in their mouth—
as if I was a story
they outgrew too soon.
And it’s never the leaving that kills you,
no—
it’s the looking back.
Seeing yourself
in someone’s almost,
someone’s if only,
someone’s not quite.
They told me I was kind.
Gentle.
Understanding.
But not… enough.
Never the one they stayed for.
Never the name their heart whispered
when it had to choose.
(pauses)
So I learned—
sometimes love doesn’t end in betrayal.
It ends in absence.
In silence.
In someone forgetting
how it felt to hold you.
And maybe that’s my curse—
to be remembered softly,
but never kept.
To be missed quietly,
but never sought.
To be loved halfway,
but never all the way home.
(sighs)
But still…
I’d rather be the one who loved
and lost,
than the one who never felt
how deep it could go.
(pause)
Because even if love never chose me—
I still chose it.
Every time.
Caught up in cycles of love-hate
she dons a smile to hide her hurt.
Yet, her conflicting emotions,
lead to inevitable pain.
In her fantasies, she's happy;
although that feeling is fleeting.
For in her world of make-believe,
she conjures hope from denial.
Jealousy lurks in the shadows;
taunting her devastated heart.
For whenever she's feeling blue,
dreams dwell on melancholy thoughts.
Youth's impenetrable shield failed
to guard her vulnerable heart.
And as lies obstructed the truth,
illusions fueled delusions.
Smitten by unrequited love,
fantasy shuns reality.
And teeters on the very edge,
of despair and insanity.
I never whispered or screamed it out loud,
But somehow, I think we both knew.
Some words are too soft for sound,
And some men too shy to spell—
So I kept quiet, and loved you in my heart instead.
I’d see you pass by my auntie’s shop,
And I would look away—afraid inside.
She spoke so kindly of you;
She said you were rural and rare—
The kind of woman who lives in small moments.
I went abroad to study,
And met many foreign ladies—wild and calm—
But none could warm my colder days.
That December when I returned,
I wished you’d smile and say, “It’s been so long,”
But neither you, nor those soft words, ever came along.
You married well; Adhieu gossiped.
Men and women ate to their fill that afternoon.
You were very happy—I heard the news.
Yet still, my imaginings grew stronger,
As I sat by, hoping for an unhappy marriage—
But the lone bench reminded me they were only hopes.
Five years have come, and five years have gone.
Life has moved on, as life must do.
You have had children, and all the love you ever wanted.
Each time I hear how well your marriage is,
My head turns a hair grayer—
Yet your eyes still hold the only light I ever knew.
We never made vows; you never said you loved me.
There was no promise that someday it would be mutual.
It was a love that had quietly flown in my heart,
And ended somewhere where the Nile turns.
For all those who experience one-sided emotional attachments. Instead of longing and heartache, let's either find someone suitable or seize the day and share our feelings.
Unrequited love
By Michelle Morris
01/12/2024
She sees him every day
The smiles they share are golden
But her feelings are deeper than friendship
There's unrequited love and hope
Sometimes she has these wonderings
If it's one-sided or returned
Should she find someone more suitable
Or allow this love to burn?
Brightly and deeply
Forever throughout Time
In a Universe ignited
Incandescent and sublime
Is it time to take a chance?
Is it time to tell him all?
The carpe diem courage
That makes us stand tall
To fly with Angel wings
To tango with the Gods
Unrequited love is lost
When we don't take a chance
© Michelle Morris, 2024
A ghostly moon haunts a vista of blue;
as white as the clouds, Luna's peering through;
a shy sprite, in a rare daytime debut.
The moon's golden glow pales at Dawn's first light;
for Luna's beacon only shines at night.
A fragile image, as frail as a dove,
Nature's victim of unrequited love;
chasing Sol across the heavens above.
But time has decreed, She'll never succeed;
Sol always leads; She can't increase Her speed.
As daylight strips Her of Her gilded hue,
a pale moon silently slips out of sight;
chasing after a dream, She's aware of
the tether, from which She'll never be freed.