Silent Is the Night

I wrote this poem about the toll attachment issues take on one's psyche and personal relationships. It comes from a personal place- the fear that because someone didn't answer when you called, or didn't reply to your text, they just don't care about you. It's about that constant fear of the slightest rejection.


I spent so long throwing stones at your window
that I never knocked on the door.
I'm forever haunted by silence not broke;
there came your sweet voice nevermore.

'Twas wrong to believe, still, 'twas wrong to deceive,
so it was falsely I adored.
I should have gave in but, instead, was drawn in
further each time I was ignored.

I was so mesmerized by twinkle star eyes
and a smile bright and sunny
that the strong medicine most would grow to despise
tasted much sweeter than honey.

As I spoke to the air, I stood with a stare
blank as freshly fell snow.
It just isn't fair that, although you don't care,
I cannot let this go.

It's so hard to refrain from loving in vain
when it's all you have anymore.
To trust, so afraid, but, intrigued, I had stayed,
and, thus, was shaken to the core.

A love that could heal holds a world of appeal;
so much that it matters the most.
And sometimes I feel like, to you, I'm not real-
nothing more than the feint of a ghost.

The years I spent throwing stones at your window
wouldn't change had I chose the door.
I called and I called; just silence would follow.
There came your sweet voice... Nevermore...