Feelings are the most burdensome

when they are almost reciprocated.

Like a promise that will never be completed.

Like a story lacking a conclusion.

It tastes like the food at an airport

where the pizza is only partially heated.

Was the food even worth eating,

one asks half seriously in contemplation.


Like a ring of gladiators unleashed,

All the spectators here have come

to see which feeling would stand remaining.

Alas, the only one left a winner is confusion.


This is dumb, I think, as I watched

All these feelings, to the death, competed

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