Unrequited Love
I fell
in love with you too easily. Too easily, I hoped and prayed and
placed too much faith in something I knew, in the back of my
mind, was not there. I placed you on a pedestal so high and above
the clouds it was unreachable, and I loved you from the ground on
which I stood to the stars that hung above your head. You never
looked down, you never noticed. And I planted beanstalk upon
beanstalk to try and get to you, but they all withered and died.
I tried and tried, and still you never glanced at me. But I loved
you all the same. I loved from a distance, the same way I loved
before. It was easy to love you, it was easy to try. And it was
easy to get hurt, and have my selfish hopes ruined. It was also
easy to stop caring, to stop sitting at the base of the pedestal
that I built. Oh it was so easy to dismantle that pedestal. Too
easy. It was hard, though, seeing you on the same plane as I.
Seeing you for who you were and not what I wanted you to be. It
was hard to walk away, because I did love you, I just didn't
love you enough to stay and hope anymore. So I did. I walked
away, and left you there, bewildered at my antics, and
still not seeing the ruins of the pedestal, the dimming of the
stars, or the withered beanstalks that littered the ground around
you. I walked away. But I left a piece of me with you, and you
still haven't noticed.