A Paradox?

I give up.

I wash these bloody hands,

Stained with Hope,

For the final time.

– Or at least, I hope I do.

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Love me?

I cannot say… ‘I love you’,

No, to this I will not confess.

Since, I don’t know if those words are true.

How can I say it, and mean it,

When I know I’m not good enough for you?

So, these words cannot be used unless,

I’m convinced that you love me too.

 

Apart

I guess there’s no way of knowing,

The way you feel about me,

And whether or not I made,

The right impression on your heart.

Perhaps I should just accept,

That all we’re meant to be – is apart.

Smitten

Yes, I’ll admit I was smitten,

And that by the love bug I was bitten,

But tales of romance are never written,

For us ugly ogres – who don’t fit in.

Dreams

At night my mind replays to me,

My need for love and affection,

Such that I dreamt of a situation,

Whereby, I had come to others’ attention.

They seemed to respond well to my presence,

And to their ranks I was invited,

But my cowardice showed,

So I ran away, and left them unrequited.

Why would I run away?

I felt too embarrassing, too unworthy to stay.

They offered me what I was looking for,

 – A sense of belonging.

But when I got what I wanted, I realised,

I’m not ready for the prize,

But only for its longing.

 

 

 

Blot

Might she be able to love me,

If I obtain perfection?

For surely I am unworthy,

To even the most lenient of perception.

Why would anyone settle for less?

Why would anyone settle for the mess,

That I am?

Can I ever be admired,

For where I am?

Can I ever be loved,

For what I am?

For even my yearning,

Doesn’t make up,

For what I’m not.

And it cannot replace,

What I haven’t got.

And it doesn’t avail,

The blot – that is me.

 

 

Yearning

I’m in need,

Of a little love,

A little attention.

I could really use,

Some comfort,

Some affection.

But I understand,

That few are attracted,

To those,

With many limitations.

When it comes to love,

The destitute rarely receive,

Any satisfaction.