What Has He Given Me?
My love is unrequited.
As one sided as an intelligent conversation
With a pitifully drunk stagehand.
The object of my love?
He loves another.
He gave her everything.
What has he given me?
She received roses.
I got the thorns.
But I can't live without him.
My heart is overflowing with love for him.
As full of emotion as an opera is full of beautiful music.
This love suffocates me.
But the object of my love?
He loves another.
He gave her his music.
What has he given me?
She received a kiss.
I got ignored,
Like an ballerina among a crowd of hateful circus-goers.
My soul cannot choose between faux optimism and wholehearted pessimism.
It is half empty from loneliness,
But half full with sadness.
But the object of my love?
He loves another.
He gave her all she desired.
What has he given me?
She received "I love you, Christine".
I got "I don't care, Antoinette".
What's wrong with me?
So as I lay in this dark room,
Weak, frail, and dying of a broken heart,
I think about him.
His eyes.
His music.
I gave him all I had, but
As I draw my last few breaths,
I wonder…
What has he given me?