Each day I sit and
beg with silent plea as
she passes by my desk.
Speak to me, or
let me speak to her.
But I lack the
courage, the
will, the
want.
More afraid that
she’ll say yes
than no.
Each morning I look
forward to those stolen glances, the
shy smiles that could be chalked
up to simple manners.
I would like something,
more, but this is all
I deserve.
She deserves better than
to be hit on at work.
Besides, she would
rather speak to
another.
By Erik Shinker
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Sad, but so familiar
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It’s always bittersweet when I write poems like this and people connect with them. Thank you for reading.
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Everyone on the World is waiting.
The world is divided in half, says a song:
Those who carry a flower in their hands and dare not give it to anyone.
And the other half, who expect someone to give them that flower. 🙂
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I’m not well-versed in formal poetry. Is this following a particular form?
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If it is, then it was unintentional. It’s mostly free verse with grouping stanzas around certain ideas.
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I’ve been reading syllabic poetry lately, which is why I asked: https://colleenchesebro.com/2019/08/13/colleens-2019-weekly-tanka-tuesday-poetry-challenge-no-140-synonymsonly/.
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This is some of my favorite kind of poetry. I love longing and tension and butterflies! So well done. Many women would wish to be the “crush!”:)
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