These words were written at a time of anger. I am angry that she doesn’t reply, and angry that I have let the situation develop to it’s current state. And so this poem is probably slightly distorted from the truth. When I see her I can’t even speak. I fear that she and everyone else doesn’t want to speak to me. I feel lost and alone. I no longer know what to do.
I built her up so very high
I am the one with my head in the sky
She’s no different to you or me
How was I so blind not to see
And all this time I blamed myself
Only good enough to sit on her shelf
I didn’t do anything for two years
Except give in to my fears
Now when I talk to her, she won’t reply
I continue to ask myself why
Perhaps she likes me too and she’s embarrassed
And so I dream of holidays in Paris;
Probably she doesn’t like me or thinks I’m weird
With me her status would certainly be smeared;
Or maybe she truly is busy
All these thoughts are making me dizzy.
And all this time, I thought I only had myself to blame
Whilst she sat perfect in her frame.
One thing though that remains certain
We’ve got no chance if she wont open the curtains.
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