The wait is unbearable.
My heart cries for an outlet;
I have so much love to give,
But no one to receive it.
Woe to the poor heart,
So filled with love,
bloated and bulging;
Every beat brings pain,
Ripping at the seams.
A broken heart,
By a different measure.
Daily my love overflows,
Becoming the tears in my eyes,
That drip steadily down,
Wasted.
Upon the cold, hard ground.
I watch in silent mourning,
As my love becomes a vapor,
Disappearing into the air,
Never to be felt,
Never to be held.