Passion Pressed Too Far

October 13, 2008
I sit waiting in the noisy crowd, not wanting to think aloud.
Trembling on this bench, I hope this yearning will soon be quenched.
As people walk by, I pray he appears. The minutes feel like hours.
Sitting here unnoticed is my biggest fear. I now wish I was a tower.

Soaking in the emotions with a song, I sense his arrival will take long.
I look left and right repeatedly. I feel as though I am defeated.
Drifting in my mind, I see a face. My heart thumps as he approaches.
My mind is in an intense race, I stare at him wanting to broach.

Blushing at him, I'm left in a daunt. His deadly grin begins to taunt.
He listens to me as I tell him of my troubles. His gaze makes it double
I tell him I love him and will be at his side. He tries not to be rude.
Knowing I gave him an oath to confide, my love is not crude.

Giving him a note that I made, I wonder what it is that begins to fade.
His expression intenses as he reads. It seems I've done a bad deed.
He sighs and tells me I'm just a good friend. I feared of this reply.
I maintain myself and wished it would never end, but now I cry.

As he walks away, I know he meant no harm, yet, I am alarmed.
I wither on the inside and fight to survive. I wish I could take a dive.
The next day, I saw him with a girl. I hated her not, yet I am sad.
Seeing them hug made me hurl. I was desperate not to be mad.

I don't understand why I don't appeal. Am I blinded by how I feel?
I long for his affection and love, I know now my head is above.
I have no choice but to end his pain. It is what I must do to be loyal.
With a knife in my hand, I begin to strin. My blood has started to boil.

Thinking of his respect for me, I think of how he has begun to bleed.
Picturing he and her, I can take no more. I ready the knife and gore.
Tears stream down my cheek. I thank him for being so kind.
In an instant, blood becomes like a creek. I was out of my mind.

Being dead, I know not what occured. His feelings were not spurred.
His feelings had not been spared. I never knew how much he cared.
Thinking my death was his fault, he knew how I handled stress.
He wished he could have made it halt. Now he'll never be blessed.

His reaction was quite normal. He had his own memories observed.
His death was not formal. His reasons for it was not obscured.
He finally realized how much he loved me. He gave his own life.
Though he would never hear my plee, he now won't have a wife.

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