Untitled, Unfinished and Incomplete 

‘Twas a fascination,
An impotent affair,
Concealed anticipation
And unintended care.

Seldom was she seen,
That tree which yearns to burn,
A love of past lives keen
In this one to return.

In a menacing sweetness
You embraced and kissed me once,
Yet a void that hummed its silence
Brought but agonising doubts.

Reserved to an invention,
A world perceived alone,
I hooked this fanciful intention
To tomorrow not with you, but not alone.

Voicing tenderness implies responsibility and to supply no straightforward answer is cruel.

Do not permit romantic limbo, whether giving or receiving.

Look the human in the eye; be frank.

For no amount of technologically-induced ‘coolness’ can dilute emotion that is pure, nor the pain which springs from the unresponsive unrequited affection glowing on your screen.


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