It makes no sense to me
That you don’t want to know me
But maybe you do
Maybe you just don’t want me
To know you

Potentially
(Actually, most likely)
It will turn out to be
One day
I’m writing another man poetry
And you’ll smile to yourself
And think fondly
“I remember when she
Wrote for me”
And those poems will always be
The only existence
Of the potentiality
And possibility
Between what could be we
And you will be happy for me

One day
These poems are going to mean something
To somebody
Besides me
Maybe not you
But sometimes poems do
Affect someone
Somewhere
Never around either of us two
Some lonely soul
Will spend time
Over these rhymes
Wishing for a poem
Just like mine
Maybe even in
A thousand years’ time
My feelings for you
Will still be on fire

Far apart
We may always be
But you probably won’t
Be forgetting me
And that may be our destiny
To only exist
In memory
Something felt
And never seen

Is it my inadequacy
Or at least
Your ability to see
The potential with me?
Do you already belong with somebody
And I’m a selfish *****
Thinking you should leave with me?

Is there something there?
Or is it thin air
How can it be
My inability
To see what’s right in front of me?

You should probably take the long way home
That don’t mean you shouldn’t let me know
A little bit
Could yield a lot of something
If my something is something to you
Nobody knows
Not even who
What somethings sometimes do