unspoken

the words i left hanging
in the wind in the willows
that golden afternoon
haunt me at night.

my trembling fingers
stay frozen, rebelling
to wait, wait for yours
that never looked to reach.

eyes that painted beauty
in every feature of your face,
the bend of your fingers,
the mind full of florid dreams.

come, won’t you look my way?
my unsaid words saturate
the silence that remains
between you and me.

T. E. Pyrus

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