Unconditional vs. Unrequited

Dearest: _______________

If you are reading this now, I am either dead, or befallen of tragic mishap. This letter, along with the accompanying letters, contain words I have written and truly meant, despite the inadequacy of words in this context.. Given that I will not see you again on this mortal coil, I feel free now to tell you the secret I have always hidden from you. This poem is one of the many contained in these letters, that I have written for or to you, but never had the courage to mail. I implore you to read them now, and come yo your own conclusion.

Love,
­­­­_____________

I beg thee, listen to my tale.
I implore you, hear me sing my sorrow.
This story told ne’er-ending
of love once had and lost.

Do you know I nurse a broken heart,
do you know the numbered stitches to mend?
Thou art ignorantly cruel,
yet could I hate you for innocence?

My heart lies in sundered ruins,
oh, how I wish it were stone!
Yet, be it flesh, bone or stone,
it would still shed its tears of sorrow.

Sorrow spun from your comely complexion,
Sorrow shed, at the sound of your whispered breath.
Sorrow sprung forth at your slightest mention,
of love spurned by your kindly face.

Do you know my deepset frustration,
do you know my impotent rage?
I would sail the seas seeking treasure,
yet fumble for my heart’s desire.

When you’re sad, I hide away and weep
When you smile, my heart leaps
When you frown, I wring my hands and
When you celebrate, my happiness is complete

You have proffered the hand of friendship,
you have offered your deal of trust,
and for these to you I thank.

Yet what man would sign
a merest contract,
written by his unrequited love?

You are my every moment’s sunbeam,
yet in you my sorrow is complete.
This is the story of wretched I,
of fate’s cruelly dealt hand.

Okay, comments please, haha. I contemplated breaking the fourth wall and speaking to the reader in the final verse, but decided that sort of ruins the suspension of belief and the persuasiveness. I don’t really know how it would sound out loud, but I tried and realised most of my poetry is requires a low, not quite coarse, not exactly breathy either, kind of voice. Sort of a voice that would match the atmosphere of a small club with not more than 20 patrons and soft jazz music in the background.

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