Unrequited

Sun, 11/19/2017 - 16:26 -- spyrkle

To the girl with hair like the sun,

to the girl whose voice reaches out to the angels.

I cannot speak.

Words washed away

by sweat of each day,

living on in an endless circle.

I cannot write.

Crooked letters.

ripped papers in the pockets of my sweater –

would you read them anyway?

please,

if I can ask you this

small, amazing miracle –

notice

notice

notice

NOTICE ME.

I don’t have hair like the sun,

my voice only reaches the walls,

but I noticed

the shadows under your eyes,

hidden by the spotlight.

Did you see the poems

I scribbled on my heart?

Do you see my hands,

trying to reach out?

Take a look with

your starbound eyes,

turn away from splendor,

and –

maybe

just maybe.

take a moment to smile at –

Me.

- Hana

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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