Is Unrequited A Requisite?

This poem was another attempt at being ambitious. It is also a companion piece to a poem I posted earlier, called "And I Have? Nothing." That particular piece dealt with writers/artists throughout history and their muses. Along with the fact that I didn't have one. This particular piece was written after I did some research about famous cases of unrequited love throughout literature. A subject to which I could relate, because most of the women I have truly felt something for, have never returned those feelings. Thus, making the things I felt, unrequited. So this piece is written about their particular situations and comparing them to my own. And it was a piece that I really enjoyed researching, as well as writing.

"Is Unrequited A Requisite?"
2011

Another year is drawing to a close
The hourglass is striking, the all too familiar pose.
Draining down, running out.
Showing me that time, is just another thing
I am forced to do without.
But that is fine, all is well.
The year has left the same old tale to tell.
Living should feel like Heaven
And not like I'm penetrating hell.
The sweat upon my brow, is showing here and now
That the burdens on my back
Allow me to mirror Atlas, but I fear I'm going to crack.
But that is fine, all is well.
But as I sit upon a lonely throne,
I wish to wear the crown of thorns I own
Hoping that the blood it drew to pour
Would hide my tears, along with everything and more.
And yet I don't. The crown is on the ground.
The dirty place, where my sceptre could be found.
For my iron fist has wilted,
And left the open hand that's bound.
To hold my face, as if, it is the only place.
Where it could come to rest, without shame.
Without the shame of being seen,
The shame of being so very far from clean
And the bitterness of being miles and miles away
From the center of your every dream.
The world will turn. But I will only sit. And yearn.
And I know you will wear a puzzled look
Wondering just what on Earth I mean
But if you will sit and rest awhile
I will use words instead of ink, to calmly paint the scene
Did you know there was once a laundry list of things
That I would die to do to you
And I would execute the acts, one by one,
Until that fabled list was through.
And I would've described your sweetest taste
To any soul with ears
And if you cried to me, in sweet delight
I would slowly drink your tears.
But only if you liked that sort of thing
And not preferred them wiped instead
I swear you will never know the depths or heights
You have reached inside my head
No, you'll continue drifting through the days
Counting hours 'til you see
Someone who is at the very least
A lesser shade of me
And though their exterior may draw your eyes
The interior hides the truth
But sadly still, you'll never learn
We'll just hear you chalk it up to youth
But please believe what I observe
Contains no judgment in the least
Dear, I just tire of your worshipping
Those who should follow behind your leash
But amongst the cavalcade of thoughts
Running quickly through my brain
Lies a central, God forsaken theme
That often causes me to then complain
The words, "is unrequited a requisite?"
Have become my clarion call
Wondering if my feelings are not returned
Just so I can feel anything at all
Whether it must be disappointment
Or a tinge of bitter rage
My heart has been a dormant corpse
Lying at the bottom of its' cage
Oh, merciful Creator
Are my Expectations Great?
Must I be like fabled Pip
Tell me, must we share a fate
Or am I like the foolish brute
Who rang the bells of Notre Dame
Thinking if Esmeralda spoke of love
She would surely say my name
Or maybe I'm like Orsino and
I must wait to count the nights
Until the number gets to twelve
And Olivia's square within my sights
Or maybe I should be thankful, I've
Never loved Charlotte 'til she wed
'Cause I'd've ended up like poor Werther
With an ending better left unread
And surely poor Cyrano knows
The taste of longing for Roxane
When he let bumbling Christian use his words
'Til he was proved a mortal man
But dear, do you see my point in this
Or should the poet wax until you're sure
That he's not asking you to share in wedded bliss
But to merely look this way some more
And I will never ask you to do a thing
That I would not do for you
But I think Cupid's either drunk or blind
For his arrow's not piercing through
The walls you've chosen to erect
To keep out the souls who look like me
And I could use my hands to tear them down
But that ending's unlikely
So maybe I'll have to speak until my voice
Becomes a whisper not a roar
Maybe then I can rejoice
For being near the one I do adore
But I feel that endings such as this
Are better left in stories still unread
Because men like me do die alone
So I fear these words were better left unsaid
But maybe fate will prove me wrong
Though it's more than that I doubt
Now, I'll beg you to leave me to my lonesome love
And please remember as you leave
To blow the lonely candle out...