Tatyana

I am here where you are not.

I am trapped in a singular frame of mind

With pressing thoughts of lonliness and yearing

That never seem to dissapate. 

The more that I revert to leaving you behind,

The more I see you not seeing me,

The more I seem to pine. 

I may move on with my day

Without throwing myself to the ground

Or begging you to see me the same way,

But no day, hour, minute, nor second passes

Without wishing that it was appropriate to say what I want to say.