We had our moments in which we learnt,
that hearts can be broken, beautiful flowers burnt.
We began to write poetry with the blood from our broken hearts,
And We learnt to paint masterpieces with the tears from our eyes,
Forgoten composers making beautiful music from painful cries.
I love you at the end of an era,
and yet i see no face in the mirror.
I hold you at last and still your heart is cold,
for even after an eternity, you are still nt mine to hold.
You do not love me and never can,
even though, darling, our hearts beat as one.

Cupid Missed

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-complete/