There’s unrequited love
hidden between broken lines,
ineligible truths obfuscated
like poetry in really small font;
eyebrows waxed and waned,
lips attempting articulation
of those words too small
for any eye to see;
a minuscule Donne dancing
across bleached parchments
without rhyming couplets
for support.
There’s unrequited love
hidden behind every line of poetry,
under every song sung
and in every kiss
abandoned.
