The Mourn And The Missing

Is to remember or will he become a memory?
There is this one, such a special indifference we share.
Myself, I see not as poetic and open as he.
I think he may just be truly captivating.
I could see, perhaps he may be just as I, One of those many stars that shines bright, and often goes unnoticed,
I went to see, the messege he wrote, oh just for me. His words quite defined and ever so lovely.
As I though to myself the response to write, I must first tell him the truth,
For we aren't the same on the inside out,
Because on the outside, I have a cover that doesn't quite suit me.
Well, none would ever guess this thing, I've put it out there,
So if you're curious
Just ask me.
But, now since it has been sent, oh the word that I have chose,
Hopefully discrimination isn't in the cards and my messege or words shall not haunt his wake.
But, til' then to know, if he'll ever or even respond ...
Hopefully he will,
Because to mourn for one that I didn't know well,
pretty sad, one could tell.
But, It's missing out on maybe knowing someone truly well.
So, I spend my waking hours waiting, perhaps anticipating, if he'll ever write back,
and until then, sleep and dreams call to me, hoping that we speak again.
18-21, F
May 19, 2012