You’ll never love me.
You never said it.
You never wrote it.
You might have never even thought it.
But it’s in the way you breathe,
The way you walk down the street.
It’s in the pattern of your breathing while you sleep,
The way you itch your skin within the darkness.
It’s written in the dirt and in the stars.
It’s within the reflection of the oceans and the blaze of wildfires.
It’s within the shadows of my room and the light of my lamp.
You will never love me.
You might not have ever said it,
But you didn’t need to.
It’s in everything that you never said and everything that you will ever say.
It’s in these words.
Its in my lungs and my veins.
The only place I can’t seem to find it is my heart.
It doesn’t matter how obvious it is.
It doesn’t matter how many times it’s clearly displayed before me.
I can’t help but hope that there’s still a chance.
I can’t help but hope that somehow my heart is right,
And everything else is wrong.
You will never love me,
And no matter how I try,
I will never be able to accept that.