Drawn

I see a final turnout upon the horizon,
But I push on toward a dream.
Her escape isn't far from reality.
My sanity isn't far from excaping.
The time with her is short,
Which leaves expression time scarce.
What's the point of my expression
When hers is not to be returned?
I know she sees in him
That which she sees not in me.
My attempts are all in vain.
For her goals are nowhere near the same.
She's enthralled in his pretty face,
Though I'm enthralled in my shame.
Her thoughts and words are always of him.
My thoughts and words are always of her.
She draws on every memory of him.
Yet I'm still drawn to her.
My chances are far beyond removed,
But I can't seem to remove my feelings.

Poems