And should I write my prose to love,
My unrequited thoughts,
I shall liken them unto the rose
That blooms inside your heart.
And should I sigh my fond desires
That whisper out your name,
I shall hold that breath forevermore,
Lest you should hear my claim.
That smile that raised my spirits high
And caused my heart to pound,
I see again, upon my page,
As I write these words down.
My nervous hands can barely scrawl
My thoughts upon the paper,
Nor can my words truly describe,
My heart's carefree caper.
And should one day, I heed the urge
To embrace you, oh so tight,
And should I tilt my head to kiss
Those lips that whet my appetite,
Will you return said kiss to me
With mutual, fond petition?
Ah, sweet rose, you bloom so fair,-
Such beauty holds my reason.
Alas, my love is captive,
Within my heaving breast,
And the world cannot bear witness,
To this love that I pledge,
Forever shall I hold it's secret,
To haunt my very soul.
My sweetest love, my rose of red,
I cannot be so bold.
Be So BoldAn unrequited love.
By Harry Boslem