Inspired by the short story "The Worn Path" by Eudora Welty. Okay, well just the premise was inspired by it. It's about him. Of course. I wish I could talk to him, tell him how I feel...

The path is worn, I've traveled before.
The faces are far too familiar.
I stand stunned.
Frozen from fear, captured by the unknown.
My head screams for motion but from my limbs there's no reply.
Standing at the fork, confronting your likeness, words cease to appear.
I yearn to profess these emotions to you, in witty song or verse.
Exclaim in the loudest of voice all the thoughts that reside in the recesses of my head.
To question how you feel for me or if you love at all...

It burns within me, these feelings, these thoughts.
Tossing and turning, they haunt me in sleep.
Dreams of you tempt me.
I see you, touch you, taste.
The ghost of a kiss resides long after the dawn.
I wake alone.
Like the day before.
Each day dying a little more.
This is my doing, my suicide.
I am consumed.
I am gone.