Angry...

Everything I’ve been wanting to tell you....

I’m angry with myself for being such a fool
to fall hopelessly in love with you
when we had never had a date,
not even really talked face to face.
I’m angry because I thought I’ve found my life-love
and let it slip me.
I’m angry that I had not gathered enough courage
to invite you for a date in the beginning
but chose to wait until I’d have found out
whether you were free to go for it.
I’m angry that I hoped you’d make this move first
but you never did.
I’m angry for when I finally resolved to ask you out,
planning to serve it the very next time
you would answer my message,
you responded no more.
I’m angry because I took the advice not to pursue you
and didn’t do more to show I cared for you so much.
I’m angry because I did not take the chance I had
to amend our acquaintance. 
I’m angry for never stopping by you
when I encountered you out in the village.
I’m angry for losing my voice in such moments
and feeling the urge to run away,
scared of the longed-for interaction
on account of my introversion and slight social anxiety.
I’m angry that you never approached me in the streets
when you came home for the holidays and weekends.
I’m angry that after I waved at you in the park,
the next day you  relocated to a bench
not so well visible from the street,
but I still saw you there
and was immensely saddened
that you shunned me.
I’m angry that you avoided me
as If I was  a monster.
I’m angry because you banned me for one innocent drunk message
and never explained what angered you so much about it to do so.
I’m angry because I did not admit my love
and tell you straight away,
when I first contacted you,
but pretended I did not mind.
I’m angry that I was trying to persuade myself
it was just a temporary enchantment
which would soon pass and I’d forget.
I’m angry that I was attempting to fool myself
that I did not care a bit about you.
I’m angry for I have never been so wrong
and the opposite was true.
I’m angry for trying to trick myself
into believing it wasn’t love
but failed ultimately
because it’s apparently genuine.
I’m angry because I was trying to convince myself I didn’t feel it,
hoping it would soon pass.
I’m angry because I was terribly wrong thinking so
and should have done more to get you hooked.
I’m angry for not speaking to you at the referendum committee
nor asking you for a dance at our cousins’ wedding.
I’m angry because if I had sent you the Valentine’s card a few days earlier
and if it had reached you before your departure
for your new place of  study half a Europe away,
things might have turned out differently.
I’m angry that upon your return
you did not react to it
nor did you answer my invitation for the harvest ball.
I’m angry that you didn’t at least say you refuse it
nor explained you were already taken,
but waited who knows what for,
so that I would not embarrass myself
writing you all I did for you birthday.
I’m angry because you should have said it before
and not ignore my message
as if you were waiting for her to decide,
whether she wanted to date you,
in order to be able
to answer my request.
I’m angry and wish you hadn’t treated me then
like just as a substitute.
I’m angry that I would not even mind being only your second option
as long as I would get to date you.
I’m angry that I did not push on you to answer,
afraid of the response
and at the same time knowing
I would send you another card anyway.
I’m angry that I never asked why you lingered so long with the answer
or whether there ever was any small chance
you’d date me if she refused you,
but I knew it would be useless
for you would either not respond at all
or wouldn’t write the sincere truth.
I’m angry because even if you told the truth
I was afraid I would not bear to hear it,
to hear that I mismet your need for love in time
and thus lost you due to my own fault.
I’m angry with you for not taking my love,
if you were looking for some,
when you knew I was madly into you
and offered it to you in abundance.
I’m angry because you did not come and claim me
when you knew I craved for it.
I’m angry because you’re just another idiot who ignored my interest
and never openly admitted you simply disliked me.
I’m angry because you were gallant enough to say you were sorry to dump me
as if under other circumstances you’d eagerly date me.
I’m angry because I once had a dream
in which you kissed me,
which symbolizes the end of any hope for a happy-ending,
and which, unfortunately, proved true.
I’m angry that I loved you before she did
and still can’t get over the fact
I’d never again get the chance
to try and seduce you.
I’m angry that I can’t even go out here anymore
because I keep seeing you everywhere.
I’m angry because seeing your parents feels like a slap across my face
and everything in our village reminds me of you.
I’m angry because I can’t even concentrate at the church anymore
since I only reminiscence your presence there.
I’m angry that I had to get away from this village
partially also because of this.
I’m angry that it didn’t work either
for I can’t run away from my feelings.
I’m angry that the mere mention of you
disbalances me for several days.
I’m angry because I overwhelm myself with work
so that there’s no time left to ponder about you.
I’m angry because I am unable to return to the way of life
I led before I experienced romantic love on my own.
I’m angry that never again will I be able to see you differently
than like somebody whom I loved once
but who didn’t give us a chance
to get to know each other better.
I’m angry that this affair has probably significantly
complemented to my hair
having started turning white
in increasing amount in the recent years.
I’m angry that this affair disrupted my peace so much
that my poems don’t even rhyme or rhythm anymore.
I’m angry because it makes me physically sick
and writing doesn’t ease my distress much.
I’m angry that I repeat myself in each new piece of poetry
but that’s how the things currently are with me.
I’m angry that I wish I had never crushed on you
and, with the same breath, to turn the time back and start anew.
I’m angry that I’m in such a state
that if you changed your mind now
I’d be happy beyond imagining
to go for a date with you.
I’m angry because I feel what I should not,
I shouldn’t be loving someone
who doesn’t love me back,
moreover, who already has a lover.
I’m angry that I know it’s wrong
but nothing helps to get rid of these feelings.
I’m angry that I worked hard to prevent it
from turning out unhappily like the one before
but it did anyway
and now I’m where I didn’t want to be.
I’m angry because I know it should not be like this
and it is totally absurd,
but I can’t change what I feel
and, sure, can’t kill it.
I’m angry because I don’t actively work on destroying these feels
cause I am afraid that with them
I would also kill the something deep inside
that makes me capable of love
and no more would I be able
to believe that  love is something more
than just a biological need,
just a working of chemistry and hormones,
that can easily be dismissed by reason.
I’m angry that trying to be sensible
doesn’t diminish my feels.
I’m angry that the feeling hasn’t dissolved in all the years,
contrary, it seems to have gotten stronger.
I’m angry for not being able to change
what I feel for you.
I’m angry because I know you’re not worth it,
nonetheless, can’t quit longing for you.
I’m angry that your ignorance
nor anything you do
neither anything I do
can change what I feel.
I’m angry that I’m unsuccessfully trying
to turn the eros into pure charity
since I know there is no chance
you’d ever come to me.
I’m angry for the inability to accept this thought with my heart
when my brain already knows it.
I’m angry for the fact that I’m well aware
how stupid and crazy this all is.
I’m angry that in spite of that
I am unable to let go
of the silly thought
that I’ve found my destiny in you.
I’m angry because I still can’t forget you
and miss you each day more and more.
I’m angry that you’re the reason why I can’t sleep at night
and the first thing on my mind when I wake up.
I’m angry because I think of you every day
and my heart feels wrecked.
I’m angry because I still dream of you
although I know it’s a fool’s hope.
I’m angry that all love songs and quotes
remind me of you.
I’m angry for missing seeing you
and then shunning looking at you.
I’m angry because I avoid looking at you so as not to hurt more
and because I’m ashamed of my feelings
but at the same time I wish to see you
and look out for you every time I’m home now
even though I know you’re gone forever
far away beyond any hope.
I’m angry because of the melting feeling I get whenever I see you, alone,
but subsequently my brain
screams: “Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!”
and it pierces my heart to see you with her.
I’m angry that in such moments
I would like to run into your arms
and at the same time disappear,
ashamed for still desiring you.
I’m angry that I am ashamed of my feelings for you
when there’s no reason I should be
because it is actually miraculous
that I am capable of such a big love
even if it is towards the wrong person.
I’m angry that instead it is you who should be ashamed
for not giving a chance to my loving heart
to try and see if it could potentially work out.
I’m angry for feeling desperate and angry
and still crying my eyes out at times
for someone who’s obviously not worth it
when I thought you were the best man I could hope for.
I’m angry for thinking that in different time and circumstance
we would maybe make the perfect match,
having so much in common
as if we were made for each other.
I’m angry that I thought you were coming to church so often
to search for something
and believed I was meant to be
the answer for your search,
as you were for mine,
that it was not just a chance coincidence
that I noticed you as a man right then,
but you haven’t realized it yet.
I’m angry because I thought I found my soulmate
but apparently, I was mistaken.
I’m angry for thinking I fell in love with your soul
but what it really was I don’t know,
because it’s not truly you whom I love
but just my idealization of you.
I’m angry that I had never been granted the chance
to find out on my own
whether you really are as good
as I imagine you to be.
I’m angry for still thinking you’re a good man
when you’re not much better than the machos before.
I’m angry that probably value and spiritual consonance
including religious practice
weren’t as important for you
as I thought and as were for me.
I’m angry that I most likely misjudged you
in this aspect of your personality.
I’m angry that you seem to value other qualities
in girls who attract you more.
I’m angry that you only seem to have taken interest
in world-travelled blondies.
I’m angry that still more and more
you resemble the one I loved before
which should have been enough a warning for me
that it wouldn’t turn out well either.
I’m angry that I was oblivious to those signs,
hoping you were different, better.
I’m angry that each time I crush on someone
who does not deserve it
because it is always someone
who doesn’t enjoy it.
and doesn’t appreciate my interest
nor reciprocate it.
I’m angry that I seem to leave everyone cold
and I don’t understand why
cause I am not the ugliest
nor have the worst personality,
though I may sometimes do unexpected and crazy things,
moreover, I love unconditionally.
I’m angry that many who are less nice
can nonetheless find themselves lovers.
I’m angry that I’m starting to believe
I wasn’t made for partnership.
I’m angry that I am starting to feel cursed
so as not to ever find happiness in a couple-life.
I’m angry that maybe what I’m destined for
is single life, forever alone.
I’m angry and afraid I may become
a crazy cat lady
full of remorse and regret
for chances not taken advantage of.
I’m angry that I never told you all of this
and now it’s too late.
I’m angry that I don’t allow myself
to approach you about it anymore.
I’m angry that I only confess it here
and you’ll never learn what I feel
because I don’t allow myself to tell you all this
even though it is something I want to do most,
for I know you wouldn’t care anyway
just like you never did.
I’m angry that I promised not to write you anymore,
knowing it’s just a play with words
that would not prohibit me
from occasionally sending you some mementoes
to remind you I still care
in unchanged measure.
I’m angry because I think she’s not pretty enough for you
and that she fits to you
much less than your former love interest,
when I know I shouldn’t be thinking so.
I’m angry for thinking that I might be happier with you
but don’t fight for it.
I’m angry for caring not to bother you
and not to disturb your happiness
when I’d like to run to you
and hang around your neck.
I’m angry that I love and respect you so much
that I let you live your own life.
I’m angry that I have certain moral limits,
that I respect the sanctity of romantic relationship,
and would never cross the boundary,
in between you two interfere.
I’m angry that I am so considerate,
although it hurts me inside.
I’m angry because truly I wish you to be happy
but deeply in heart I yearn it was with me.
I’m angry that sometimes I hope that one day,
like it was with the guy before,
I’ll realize and embrace that I was wrong
and they were right who claimed
you were not worthy of me
and it would never have worked out between us two
and I will feel nothing more
but indifference to you.
I’m angry that on other days I really wish I was able
to rejoice with you in your luck
being able to experience the miracle of finding your life-love,
though in someone else, not me,
for I know how rarely that happens,
like any true Christian should do,
because that is what true love is about,
it lets the love ones pursue their own happiness.