The Unrequited Love Poem

The Unrequited Love Poem

She gazed into his eyes as she had done a million times before but something was different this time.  Something had shifted behind his eyes.

She took a step back and looked at his whole face.  She knew every line, every mole, every muscle movement of that face and yet, she couldn’t put her finger on what had changed.

“Rough day?” she asked hesitantly.  A shadow had moved in on her confidence over the past couple of weeks and the fear was starting to take a grip of her heart.  Her insecurity was beginning to taunt her more often lately because of the subtle changes in their relationship.  Again, nothing she could really put her finger on.  Things were…different.  They just felt different.

“It was fine.”  he stated blandly.  No emotion, no explanation, no further discussion.

She began to wrack her brain again for the possible source of his unfamiliar demeanour.  That little voice inside her head waking up for another marathon taunting session.  He wasn’t one to hold a grudge though.  Not one to be spiteful or vindictive.  He didn’t have a mean bone in his body .  His usual loving, gentle self would have pulled her into his arms and held her close to his strong, beating heart.  His usual loving, gentle self would have leaned in close with his lips against her ear and told her how much he loved her.  His usual loving, gentle self would have made her feel that his arms were the safest place she could be and that he was all she ever needed.

But today?  Well, today he merely glanced in her direction before moving off into the other room and taking a seat on their well-worn couch.

“Honey, is everything ok?  You don’t seem yourself.”  She tries again to draw him into conversation.  Whatever is going on is scaring her but she’s determined to steel her resolve and set her insecurities aside.  They had had a few problems in the past – like all couples – but nothing they hadn’t been able to work out.

“I came up with a solution to a problem today” he stated matter-of-factly.

She breathed a sigh of relief.  He had been having some problems with a colleague at work, she knew that – they weren’t seeing eye-to-eye on the finer details of a project they were working on together.  If he’d had it out with his colleague it would take him a little while to come down from the stresses of the day.

For the first time in weeks she began to relax a little bit.  Her shoulders went down and the frown lines on her brow began to soften.  This she could deal with.  External problems were easier to resolve than the internal ones.

She picked up the jacket he had slung over the back of the chair, “I’ll put the kettle on.”  She’d go and make a pot of coffee and cut him a huge, indulgent slice of carrot cake and sit with him for a while until he was ready to talk.  It’s true, this wasn’t a regular thing.  He was one of the most even-tempered people that she had ever met and knew that if she left him to his own thoughts for a while that his mood would improve.

She dropped his coat as she was opening the closet and when she picked it up a business card fell out of the breast pocket.  It was a beautiful looking card;  grey with a silver embossed filigree design woven through it.  The name Luna Sparks is written in gorgeous calligraphy embossed across the middle of the card.  It really was a stunning card but there was no further information, no contact information, no email address, no nothing, just the unusual name.

Unusual but not unfamiliar.  She had seen that name before…the box in the attic that contained his essays and poetry from way before they met.  That was the name he wrote under although he was always very precious about his writing.  So much so that he had never allowed her to read them although she had seen enough to recognise his pen name:  Luna Sparks.

She turned the card over and was stunned to see what looked like a lengthy poem printed on the back.  A poem called:  “The Unrequited Love”.

It sprung forth gently, in the Spring of this love

It was new, it was fresh , it was a beautiful beginning.

My heart opened up like a blossoming flower

My heart, that was a wasteland, was being brought to life.

 

The love grew warmer and more intense.  The heat growing as my heart grew fuller –

The Summer of our love.

The feelings were strong, the emotions were real

She was the love of my life, my one true soul-mate.

Our love grew stronger as the fruit of a healthy vine

The branches were strong, the winds had not yet blown – our love was untested.

 

The weather turned crisp, the fruit grew fat and juicy until the skin split open

Revealing the rotting flesh beneath

A brown spot here, a bird-pecked remnant there

Gossip and tales, suspicions and late night calls, out till late, coded messages

All woven together and combined

Are these people for real, is there any truth to these thoughts

Have the birds been at the fruit, has it all been spoiled?

 

Winter snuck up and stole into our love

The frost bit the edges whilst the cold filled my heart and stole into our love

My love which was fiery, alive and bright

Has become cold and unnatural, a cycle of life, a beginning and an end.

I am over this love, it seems to have run its course

I am dead, I am passionless and my head is filled with lies.

My heart no longer feels, she is nothing to me

This love I once felt has hollowed me out.

 

Where once the edges had softened

They are now prickly and brittle

This once all-consuming love has been turned upside down

And, just as the seasons make way for the next

So, she too must go

My body must rest.

She kept staring at the card and catching little snatches of the poem…I am over this love…she is nothing to me…she too must go … until she couldn’t see the words anymore.  The tears welled up before they spilled unnoticed and rolled down her pale cheeks.  In an instant she realised what had been happening.  She had been pining with unrequited love as he was pulling further and further away.  How could she not have seen this coming?  How had she been so stupid?

He came up behind her and peered over her shoulder.  “Why?” she asks trying to keep control of her voice.  “How could you?”

“You’re like a puppy” he says, “It didn’t matter how much I put you down, you were so desperate, you just kept coming back for more.”  The smirk on his face was ugly, it sent chills down her spine.

“So, why didn’t you just say something instead of waiting for me to find this masterpiece?  It’s like you’ve already anticipated the ending…like you’re writing me out of your life.”

“I am…and they’ll never find the body.”