What I knew of love was not much at all,

but the little I felt was true - I'm sure.

I knew you felt it too, behind your wall,

that my amateur love still held allure.

Alas, you have denied it at all lengths,

wishing I would tire, as you held your breath,

only spot weaknesses, ignore my strengths.

Though I'll probably love you to your death.

Later, I'd become a nice memory -

I hoped that it's much later than it is!

How did you stop thinking of me fondly,

without me, however will you find bliss?

I wish I had known love as you had known -

the greatest love of all is love not shown.

Sonnet.