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