This is starting to border on ridiculous, but I’m doing it anyway. After all, it’s my diary, isn’t it?
I’ve written a poem. She probably won’t ever read it, but if she does, she’ll know it’s for her. I don’t think I can tell her; at least, not now. Maybe someday…
my love
she inspires me
to sing
without knowing
what words i should choose
the verses form
without sounds
there is no melody
to carry my thoughts
to her
she speaks a word
and the Spirit stirs
creating a torrent
within me
my soul cries out
for her
to be by my side
to complete my joy
but she cannot be mine
she belongs to another
i do not know him
but i envy him
always
i lay awake tortured
by the distance
between us
so close and so far
she does not know
the workings of
my heart –
its depth a mystery
how would she choose
if she knew
of my love?
would she choose me?
does she love me?
she appears
and my heart soars
pure bliss
within its depths
she departs
and i despair
sheer agony
no words can describe
how can i tell her
make her long
as earnestly
as i?
i pray for her
to be mine
the way i am already
hers
god, make her mine
chad patten