for once, i thought of competence, of blatant self-esteem,
a sight for sore and cold-dried eyes, enhanced with a sly gleam;
but, smile, oh dear, that wicked smile, that cunning cheat you use,
and sway this heart a million whiles, and wiles, a wildly ruse.
and silence plead, in silence plead, worse than how this heart bled,
for knowing that your wound is worse, unless it's in your head;
for once, i thought deserving that i would, i could for more,
that all stopped short of turning up and begging at your door.
for one more chance, for once i hoped, i would and may find heart,
that feeds, and stops my poetry, though ever we're apart;
i never prayed for silly whims, i never played for empty wants,
for once, i'd wait for days and years, for moments and for months.
and all i did, for if you may, had asked was all i'd wish,
but voiced it none, my dearest one, oh, fragile hearted kiss;
an ode! a line! oh, matters not, for one, for two, for all,
i swore you this, again i do, from gracious leap and fall.
for once, i'd seen the callous soul, that frigid, lifeless heart, that sings behind a veiled blind smile, which quenches with a rhyme -
for once, i'd thought, that maybe love, that even though apart, that this would be the only once, the last and for first time.