Nothing but ash in a strong wind

I will go for many long days without seeing you.

I think it’s not so long a time to be apart.

I wish I didn’t feel the way I do,

but you are caught up in my heart.

I have been alone for so long,

alone with someone in the same room.

You will never understand that feeling.

Or, at least, I hope you never do.

I know if I were prettier you would want me,

but this is the face that I possess.

Your shallow eyes are only one flaw,

it doesn’t make me love you any less.

Why should I be ashamed that my heart has claimed you,

even if you are repelled by my touch?

If a heart will give where there is no gain,

can it not be left in peace as such?

If you do not care for me,

if, to my love, you turn your back,

it doesn’t diminish me in any way.

It still is not a grievous act.

What happens to love that is not returned?

Does it blow away?  Does it just get burned?

If I have learned one thing from my past:

I’m on the wind and nothing but ash.

Indeed, I’d be much happier

if you’d reciprocate the feelings I have for you.

But my heart wants what it wants.

I’ll be content; there’s nothing I can do.

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