The Girl Who Does Not Know

She wears a smile wide yet frail,
But her eyes tell a different tale:
One of pain and sorrow,
One that cannot be forgotten today nor tomorrow.

She speaks with a softness in her every word,
Yet nothing of hers is ever misheard.
This bravado she portrays,
Is equivalent to a dying bouquet.

I may be mistaking fatigue for sadness,
Yet when she laughs I don't sense the gladness.
Perhaps I should let her know,
That there is a man who sees right through her false glow.

She needs to be told how lovely she looks,
Her beauty radiates when she reads her books.
An honest desire for this woman is a must,
One not fed by the fire of lust.

The emotions toward her continue to grow,
Through his veins they have started to flow.
He wishes to lay it all out for the world to see,
His love for her is as strong as can be.

They have never conversed,
But he feels as if he knows her most.
Her vibe is a puzzle and more,
And he has figured out what she truly yearns for.

He cares not if her heart is already claimed,
For he wishes to tell her what he is named.
His face and name will never leave her mind,
As she forever searches for a love of his kind.