"Unclear Motives"

Unaware
He watches plainly as the lies unfold
Every emotion he had, sucked out
His eyes are near opened
Opened to an obvious truth
He's not perfect, nor amazing
That wouldn't be fathomable
For the other, is better
Undeniably
And you can't be more than perfect
He wonders her motive
Not oblivious to how she chooses her words
How she makes sure she doesn't make promises
How her interest in their conversations, has diminished
He can't help but act the way he does
Now even his best fake smile can't mask the pain
Unmistakable
I mean, it's understandable
He fell in love with a lost hope
And is now paying the price
Of giving his heart up so cheaply
She still holds it
Tucked in a drawer somewhere, undoubtedly
Perhaps kicked under the bed
Unimportant
It's gathering dust
Dust which clogs arteries
Rusts the valves of which he needs
Needs to go on
Which matches the need to move on
But how could he?
The sharade is merciless
Unimaginable
Haunting every square inch of his bones
Driving into his stone skin
Like knives
The knives that call to him
For the damage she has caused
And will continue to inflict
Can never be
Undone

Greetings, world.

So, I will be using this blog to publish my writings.  I am going to write a poem a week at the minimum.  I just though I would put them out for the enjoyment, or unenjoyment, of others.  So, let's kick things off.  This one is fittingly titled, "Second Place".

He sits alone.
Waits for her no less, as the day progresses without a notice.
A notice of interest.
He knows where she is, but tries not to think about it.
The love hurts too much.
Not as much as the welcoming blade however.
The all too enticing release.
He fights it, for the sake of her.
Although there's not much fight for him.
He's tried drinking, only to find thoughts of her increased.
He's tried music, but only to find every word that comes out on paper.
Is her.
Closing his eyes at night, to dream of their first encounter.
First hug.
First kiss.
Night after night, the same dream.
Day after day, no dreams come true.
Time to time he comes to his senses.
But can't tell her how he feels.
Settling for second place, it seems, is easier than letting go.