Tag Archives: Unrequited love

no happy ending club

i’m three blocks over on
the streets of dover beneath
that neon blight pile on
& i remember your teeth
being far too white on that night
in that light where you broke my heart

your nipple tassels
in my fuzzy navel
i’m turning into the
man i don’t want to
be but surly am

triple x never marked the
spot & why would it, i’m a fool
it’s a shame for me but the
fact is you never knew me, you’ll
agree, nor did you ever want to
& nor were you obliged

your nipple tassels
in my blue balls
i’m leaning into that
void more & more each
sexless day & year

why do you live on in my
mind, so long after the fact
you are the ghost in my
neurons & i want to hate you for that
with all the passion i no longer muster
& all the clucks i no longer fuster

your nipple tassels
in my lava flow
i’m turning into that
stone cold incel & i’m
afraid it’s all my fault

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Gifts Returned by Walter Savage Landor

“You must give back,” her mother said,
To a poor sobbing little maid,
“All the young man has given you,
Hard as it now may seem to do.”
“‘Tis done already, mother dear!”
Said the sweet girl, “So never fear.”
Mother. Are you quite certain? Come, recount
(There was not much) the whole amount.
Girl. The locket; the kid gloves.
Mother. Go on.
Girl. Of the kid gloves I found but one.
Mother. Never mind that. What else? Proceed.
You gave back all his trash?
Girl. Indeed.
Mother. And was there nothing you would save?
Girl. Everything I could give I gave.
Mother. To the last tittle?
Girl. Even to that.
Mother. Freely?
Girl. My heart went pit-a-pat
At giving up … ah me! ah me!
I cry so I can hardly see …
All the fond looks and words that past,
And all the kisses, to the last.

by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR (1775-1864)
Public Domain Poetry

love strabismus

your eyes avoid my face
my face avoids your averted gaze
why should i apologise

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Crushed Leaf by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

An hour ago when the wind blew high
At my lady’s window a red leaf beat.
Then dropped at her door, where, passing by,
She carelessly trod it under her feet.

I have taken it out of the dust and dirt,
With a tender pity but half defined.
Ah! poor bruised leaf, with your stain and hurt,
‘A fellow-feeling doth make us kind.’

On winds of passion my heart was blown,
Like an autumn leaf one hapless day.
At my lady’s window with tap and moan
It burned and fluttered its life away.

Bright with the blood of its wasting tide
It glowed in the sun of her laughing eyes.
What cared she though a stray heart died –
What to her were its sobs and sighs.

The winds of passion were spent at last,
And my heart like the leaf in her pathway lay;
And under her slender foot as she passed,
My lady she trod it and went her way.

So I picked the leaf from its dusty place,
With a tender pity -too well defined.
And I laid it here in this velvet case,
Ah! a fellow-feeling doth make us kind.

by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX (1855-1919)
Public Domain Poetry