Internal struggle

I saw you yesterday chatting with my sis,
dressed in light khaki jacket and ripped black jeans
revealing attractive yet banned to me sights
of pieces of bare skin on your legs and tights.

I could not intrude on your conversation,
so I rather waited aside, with caution,
knowing my presence would have made you nervous,
you’d not talk as breezily e’en to my sis.

Some time later I saw you, high-spirited,
conversing with some girl friends you were there with;
a group you’ll never let me to be one of.
Yet still later, for a lucky moment brief,

as you passed by my table our eyes met.
I was really happy that you did not fret.
But at the same time your look filled me with deep
grief since you still seem to view me as a creep,

questioning my behaviour earlier this night
when instead of facing you I chose a flight,
if me staying behind can be deemed as such.
You know, I’d love to be with you very much.

But every time I encounter you a red
control lights turns on at the back of my head,
staying me from approaching you and telling
me to hold back, so that I’m not annoying

you with my lasting interest anymore
nor ruining your life with my love and ardour.
I know I disgust you and you will never
want to do anything with me, like ever.

How could I’ve ever thought you might have liked me?
That’s impossible. I’m afraid I won’t be
ever good enough for anyone. You too.
I’m just a bother for you, I know that’s true.

I don’t belong in your world, so I shall not
e’er come around again intruding in it.
Right now, I have a bigger mess in my mind
than ever before. No way out can I find.

I don’t know how to approach you about it
or whether at all, because—I must admit—
it doesn’t seem to be a wise idea
to come and tell you how much I still love ya.

This night I meant to do so if the chance came.
My feelings and desires are still the same.
I’d love to dance with you, tightly snug.
I wish I could get at least a single hug.

Wish I’d been able to tell you in private
how much I still miss you and that I regret
how foolishly I’ve behaved until tonight
and how desperately I want to set it right.

I want to tell you about all I’ve written
since you rejected me last year. It’s more than
I ever wrote in one year in my whole life!
You certainly provide inspiration rife

for my poem-writing. Unfortunately,
they all turned out bitter and melancholy.
Just all the more I’d want you to read them and
watch you doing so to see if you’d be stunned;

to see your reaction and learn what you think
about all that I am towards you feeling.
However, I can’t—no, mustn’t bother you
with any of that. There’s nothing I can do.

Regardless of my desires, I must stay
reasonable. I must stay out of your way.
I must stay out of your life and let you be.
I must keep to myself this my love folly,

hoping it will once disappear like you did
from everywhere. E’en your social sites you hid
to escape from my unwanted attention.
Ever since, when we cross paths there’s just tension

between my desires and your indifference,
leaving only me bawling my eyes out thence.
Just like today—even the sky cried with me
over my incredible stupidity

that I’ve fallen heedlessly in love with you
and still crave you with all my being, I do.
But I mustn’t act upon my feelings, no.
I must no more harass you with them, my beau.

It is my internal war, brain against heart,
in which I must defeat myself—It’s so hard!—
in which reason must win over desire
and my feelings must be choked with barbed wire.