In silent corridors of heart's deep woe, Where shadows whisper tales of unrequite, I wander with a love that cannot know, The light of dawn nor solace of the night. For you, I'd paint the stars on endless skies, Yet find my canvas bare and cold resigned, As you bestow your tender, fleeting eyes On those whose souls to mine are not aligned. A garden blooms where once my hopes were crowned, Each petal lost, as winds of absence blow, Your love a distant echo, not a sound, A river's rush where I cannot bestow. Yet in this aching void, a truth lays bare, In loving you, I've learned to truly care.