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Poems by Beedoo!

Told or Untold

Don’t stare at me so
when I’ve said that I love you…
Can I help that I do?
I cannot.
I know that you love her
rather than me,
but I can’t help but wonder
—or hope—
that someday you’ll stop.
And notice me.

Waiting on the sidelines
like a shy little child,
and searching for words
that could lure you away
from her siren’s-clutch hands…

But the words will not come
And my heart betrays my tongue
so every lie I tell becomes truth
somewhere on the way out…
benevolence, malice;
understanding to hatred;
but with nothing to say in my defense.
The only sense that my mouth will make
is that horrible, wondrous fact that I love you
even though your heart and soul are hers.

Don’t leer at me so;
The burden is enough
without such heaviness as your eyes put upon me…
To bear this love
With no recompensation, restitution,
No acceptance or appreciation,
And lastly, no love
to measure up my own against
and see that you are my perfect match.

Nevermind these tears
as you walk to take her hand;
Don’t stare at me so as you leave
Looking at me as if my heart had shattered
Spilling red crystallines
on the tile of the floor;
droplets of blood in a sea of black-white-black
the fire in my eyes trickling through my fingers
—my life—
as you leave, staring like I were crazy
after feeling the strained slightest
brush of my love…
never tasting my lips,
never meeting my eyes
with a glimpse of your soul as reward,
for that—just that, would be enough.

Stop your staring, caged bird,
I’ll take not your freedom.
You’ll go where you want when you want
when you want to…
There isn’t a part of my power to stop you
though my eyes follow after
and beg your return
unaccepted, unacknowledged, uncaring;
as you walk to her side, not mine—
brush away her blonde hair instead of my brown,
gaze in her green eyes and not in my burned ones…
I have nothing to offer
she cannot do better,
and you loved her long before I
came on the scene,
unwanted intruder
of things far surpassing
my immature comprehension.

So I say that I love you,
seeking love in your stare,
though I do not find any,
even falsely…

Go with her; I am insignificant,
especially in this scheme of things.
Maybe someday
if she decides not to like you
you can look back
to see me, hopefully waiting.
Maybe you’ll remember
this day when I told you…
and the incredulous stare you gave me.

I know it is wrong
to love a man taken;
love cannot help itself,
when or who it invades.
So while the weight of your stare
crushes down upon me,
all I can cry of—at least I told you.
Just a little too late.
A little too late.

B!'s Poetry---Main