Unrequited


How can you look at me
the way you do and
act like you don't
feel anything?
How can you hold such
perfect standards of
life that it makes me
feel broken and awful
for loving something
that I can never behold?
How is it that your eyes
hold the mirror that I see
myself best in and
even at my best,
it's unrequited.
How is it that your feet
don't get stuck in the honey
of my eyes,
but I drown in the water
of your's?

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