A vicious circle

You hit on me and I got hit hard, but then you changed your mind.
Without any explanation, you suddenly turned unkind.
I guess I’m now beginning to see why – you don’t want to end
up marrying an older woman like your once classmate and friend,
whose wife-to-be is even older than me. However, I
have never thought of that. All I ever wanted was to try
dating, go out together a couple times. The sad truth is
that while I did, you never overcame the age prejudice.
But that is a very lame reason not to give it a chance.
Plus, you didn’t seem to mind the age gap snuggling me in dance.
Your rejection drives me nuts just like my interest does you,
yet out of respect I keep back. Or at least I’m trying to
as best as I can. I haven’t been doing anything bad.
I stopped trying to contact you so as not to make you mad –
quit trying to meet you and talk, writing, and even greeting.
The last joy I had left was inconspicuously viewing
your profile and adoring pictures of you, a handsome male.
Though, I could have tried to stay in touch via phone or email
or come to eat at your job-place only to see you someday
as I’ve got all your contact info (as some you gave away
and some I found out myself), including where you live and work.
I could have pursued you in all these ways, but don’t want to irk.
I was just looking from far like at some luxurious good
in a fancy shop’s window that I cannot afford to get.
Your pictures along with my memories and dreams were the last
pleasure left to me when there’s no hope to satisfy my lust.
Can I not admire you like an inspiring sports person
and follow your progress? Why should it be to you of concern
whether I look at your posts as long as you have them public?
Unless you make them private, anyone can look. That’s not sick!
It’s only my problem if I’m thinking of you all day long
and particularly whenever I hear any love song.
Your withdrawal from social media doesn’t change a thing;
no matter what you do, it doesn’t alter what I’m feeling.
If nothing else, I at least wished to revere you silently,
reminisce and daydream, and compose more foolish poetry.
It seems you must have been reading it although I never did
send the new poems to you. I only share some to my feed,
but doubted anyone ever actually reads the nonsense.
We’re both just the same. I stalked your pictures and you my poems.
You see, it is a vicious circle, a never-ending game.
I hadn’t anticipated what you did, and now feel shame.
I didn’t mean to push you to quitting half the things you like
and which fascinated me. I didn’t know this was at stake.
I didn’t expect you’d ever change most of your ways of life,
neither that because of me anyone could feel so unsafe
that he would choose to commit a social media suicide.
It would suffice to make your posts private if you wished to hide.
But be sure I would never do anything hurtful to you.
Now I’m worried about you and regret what I’ve done, I do.
Please, don’t do something to yourself just because of crazy me.
I promise I’ll be a good girl like I always had to be
with the guys who dumped me before, holding back and never more
asking you for a date. Although that’s still what I most wish for.
Don’t forsake the version of your self that I fell in love with –
the cute life-enjoying coffee-loving runner, that’s your pith –
just because, desperate that I’m old and lonely, I clung to it
and not knowing proper boundaries I did some silly shit.
I was afraid I’m not worthy of love until the night when
you danced with me and I once felt like a desired woman.
Soon after, I grew anxious that you may be my only chance
in life to experience an actual full-blown romance.
So I should not and cannot let this opportunity go
as I doubt that any other will show up. At least, my beau,
with you it’s the closest that I’ve come to a relationship
in the last twelve years – our bodies pressed close, your hand on my hip.
I deeply regret not going straight for it and kissing you
when you were in the mood and it seemed your affection was true.
I pressed it too much until I broke you and you condemned me.
I feel bad for it and admit you have every right to be
angry because I was being an obnoxious stupid cow.
Now I’m afraid I’ve lost you forever and there’s no way how
to fix it and at least stay friends as you not only blocked me
but, deleting all your content, you pretend not to be,
not to exist for me at all, and that the night never was.
Don’t worry, we’ll likely never see each other again ’cause
I’m moving soon and then, in time, I may cease to desire you
when and if one day, perchance, I get attached to someone new.
For now it is as it is. Can you ever forgive me, please?
I really am terribly sorry for driving you to this.
I already feel bad for it, but I’d be even more wretched
to know I’m the only reason why you so utterly changed.
I plead guilty to all charges, my act’s unforgivable,
and deserve a capital punishment as it’s no quibble.