A Replica of Guantanamo in Nebraska

I've told you. You're the one I love. I've told myself
That, even if you love me back, you never will come
Close again, but what is “close?” I start to wonder.
You sit near to me each day. You dropped down
Straight across from me this morning, and, though
You were careful to seem mostly occupied with your
Phone and the others near, you looked once straight
Into my eyes. Were you close then? I felt you were,
But soon you stood and walked away, and did not
Say a word to me. Who's more tortured in this
Prison, he whose love goes unacknowledged, or
She who keeps coming near, but doesn't dare to speak?

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 60 times
Written on 2017-07-09 at 01:39

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ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!