Notice

It’s a matter of picking your poison, 
To have given love is one thing; 
Receiving it, another. 

I suffer for a love held far-off. 
I peer over just to find you mingling 
With another, 
Which says a lot 
About missing, 
Missing a person. 
I can go on and on, thinking 
If I even cross your mind. 

My love is a passing cloud, 
My heart hangs on nothing. 
I really don’t know 
If you’re keeping me 
Or keeping me away. 
My hands: distant, 
More distant than before. 

So this is what it’s like 
To be an island. 
I send out smoke signals to you, 
And failing at it. 
But with your closed-eyes, even, 
I keep falling for you, 
And I hate it. 

So, if I’m gone, truly gone, 
Could my distance be enough 
To make a closed heart grow fonder, 
I wonder. I wonder if you’ll miss me, 
Just as I miss you, crazily. 

I am happy for the coins 
Getting picked up on the streets; 
Happy, for a small pup; 
Happy, 
For the drowning man. 
I wonder, if I’ll find someone, 
Who will truly notice me.

© 2011 J.S.P.