to shout his angst, and knock it down.
To take the edge off loneliness again,
because the cause and solution is not around.
There was a time when their hands entwined,
and they whispered their souls into the dark,
air kissed with perfume, breath full of red wine,
discovery, excitement everywhere they embarked.
One fateful day, his adoring eyes fell
on a lapse somewhere deep in her pensive gaze.
A forced smile, or a silence long held
weaved doubt into his carefree days.
Doubt grew to be worry, and soured to regret,
not for her disdain, but for his own love.
There was no way to fight it; you get what you get,
and he gave so much more for a glance from above.
Thus the phrase came about, awful, yet true:
"The person who cares most will always lose."
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I wrote this while I was feeling down, and I don't necessarily believe every word as I sit here now. I do think that there's an inherent risk to loving someone; there's always the possibility that it won't be reciprocated, and that is one of the most painful parts of the human experience. I'm fine right now, though, so don't mistake this little bit of doom and gloom for anything more than the product of a shitty night.
-RAD
