Only Myself To Blame

Unrequited

I could not banish it in Springtime,
I could not work it from my head in Fall,
In Summer, I heard your name in everything,
Now Winter comes, you're all that warms my soul.

Yet you see my love,
Like an imperfection of the skin.
As a doctor views disease,
Or an injury of the limb.

To be reviled and remedied,
Or just diagnosed absurd.
Though, you will find my love,
Is not so easily cured.

In Spring, you sought silence,
And I thought distance best.
In Fall, you chose indifference,
And I escaped to books and test.

In Summer, your irritation burned,
Just as my longing did, it seems.
Winter comes again, and you are gone,
Yet still, you haunt my dreams.

In years ahead, your heart may turn,
But wise men say not to live on "Someday".
My masochistic heart will always await you,
A numb limb reaching for feeling, very far away.

Perhaps one day your icy stare,
Will instead, freeze my lover's flame.
For now I pine, that you are not mine,
And I have only myself to blame.