A Coward's Hanging Story

The ink used here were tears of lament
From the coward man who wrote and knew
He doesn't deserve to be praised here,
For he wounded the girl he valued.

So these memories are all that's left;
Though it hurts, they let it recollected.
Tracing back what was love from the start,
He holds that this story hadn't end yet:

He can’t even remember when
He met this lovely girl
But he knew then that she would be
The one to change his world.

The sound of raindrops clear and fresh-
They both can still recall.
It was the night they first exchanged
Their friendship once untold.

Succeeding days then, like river rush,
Were almost done unwittingly.
Together, they seem have made their own
Life of virtual reality.

The time did come when hearts were full
And commitments demand to fasten.
The boy sure had his life on her
But insecurities faltered him.

“Have I heard her right, does she love me too,
Or I just misunderstood ?
Am I not just like all her other friends,
Should I act like how I should?”

“If she’ll be mine is her heart safe;
Are we ready to get hurt?
If I’ll be hers can I give all;
Is my heart enough for her?”

These thoughts overcame what once was limpid,
He sank to vain discouragement.
So to save his heart he convinced himself
That it’s not what those feelings meant.

The closeness narrowed, the warmness grew,
But the feelings were not relinquished.
His dearest girl has waited long
Enough to have her hopes diminished.

Seasons passed, some years didn’t last,
Their friendship did not end.
There’s still a flame but it calmed down,
Then doubts ceased to pretend.

He took the coldness as the proof
That she didn’t really love him.
He’s jealous of the other traits
Not in him that could have kept them.

Then one day it seemed that they stepped back
From each other concurrently.
A very deafening silence broke
Separating them so quickly.

The missing bricks, the blooming buds,
And questions were left unanswered.
Both dwelt in deep skepticism;
The love that once were sure got blurred.

Regrets took over the longing heart;
“What ifs” emerged from dubieties.
What’s killing them was their hungry hopes
Demanding from hearts that's now empty.

Those feelings uncontained exploded
Every night as secret tears of rue.
Their story started so suddenly
But does it have to end that way too?

The boy revamped the tears to ink,
Reminiscing their story anew.
But he still can’t finish his poem
‘Cause he’s still hoping for chapter two.