Unrequited (Stream XIV)

To write of love
And how love makes us feel.
Love steals the heart.
Needing to steel oneself
From the arrows
Arrows which pierce the heart.
The arrows of Eros sometimes miss,
Of course,
Off course,
Hit the wrong target
And misfired
Lead to unrequited love.
That longing hurt.
That gnawing hunger.
Hungry for love
But love is blind
And they are blind to you
Having eyes for another.
You are left to pine.
Pining away
To write of love.
And how it makes us feel.

P H Brookes Copyright 2012

poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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