m t 2

here i sit

alone at home

listening to music

writing this poem

wondering why

after all these years

there is not love

just lonely tears

what about me

cannot be loved

i wonder as i write

this chilly night

why has it eluded me

i who have so much

capacity

to love and be loved in return

and yet denied this

my eyes still burn

from tears shed by an

aching heart

yearning for its

matching part