Some say
                                                            unrequited love
                                                                      is the hardest.
                                                  It leaves you
                                                            in a state of
                                                                      wondering,
                                                  If he had said
                                                            if I had said
                                                                      if we had tried..
                                                  ....but we didn't...

                                                  Are we always
                                                            then searching
                                                                      for that lost one?
                                                  Are the others
                                                            vaguely familiar,
                                                                      their looks, voices?
                                                  The underlying theme
                                                            repeats itself,
                                                                      over and over.
                                                  Wondering, questioning,
                                                            never letting the
                                                                      mind be still.
                                                  A tortuous beginning -
                                                            never ending.
                                                  Someone going
                                                            around a corner
                                                                      is it he?
                                                  A familiar voice
                                                            on the phone
                                                                      can it be?
                                                  Unrequited love
                                                            leaves us restless,
                                                                     as an unfinished song.
                                                  A picture... 
                                                            waiting to be painted.
                                                  The certainty of
                                                            a crescendo-waves
                                                                      that never happen.
                                                  It quietly gnaws
                                                            at the edges of our mind
                                                                      taking peace away.
                                                  Are there so many
                                                            unfinished affairs,
                                                                      floating in the ethers?

                                                  .....or are we the only ones.........

Kay Ekwall©1998