Unrequited

Months ago

you burned

my hopes

up in smoke

with five words

it took

eighteen years

to say,

"It's not you,
it's me,"

and one phone call,

one hour later

all is forgotten. 

I am exactly right for you,
don't you see?

Of course you do.

But it's me,
not you,
who's blinded
by a dream
of what will never be.

Because
I love you too much
to ask you
to settle
for me,
no matter how good
I would be
to
for
with
you.