My Poetry: Nothing Is Enough for Me

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I loved you, secretly,
tho I could never
confess with words
those rose thoughts
you despised,
so I held you, instead,
arm’s softened
with false hope,
as we got close
enough to touch,
but not fully embrace

the boy girl paradigm,
while I tried in vain
to paint a primitive
sketch of a heart
on the palm of your hands
with false hope to heal
your imperfect body and mind
so you might fly again,
but like a fool I forgot
what decades of laboured

unrequited love
had proven,
that when someone so wild
and beautiful
enters your life
they are not yours

to hide from the world,
so you paid for my kisses
with the golden pieces

of your broken body and mind
you had left,
which in the end
was nothing,
but it was enough for me
because you see
I was poor
before you came
and I'll be poorer still
before I pay my final bill.