Tenderness one-sided

I wish I could
place in your hand a knife sharpened with desperate hope
And I thought up a role for you:
an assassin in the deep of the night comes to knock at my door
The valves spring open even before my knowing chirp of "Who's there?"
Plump with life (-time of longing)
the muscle invites
...finally?

But you go on with your everyday life
Mundanity in broad daylight inversely proportionate to the yawning chasm-ic scale of my fantasy.

I put on the bored face of a boring nerd.

The victim-denied clenches her fist under the vandalised table (surprisingly all lamentations none declarations of love)
holding onto the bitterness, though not quite intense enough - that is the only taste of her life.