She'Ll Never Know Poem by Ibn Ali

She's the dream you try not to wake from, then you're woken, and can't get back to sleep, no matter how hard you try,
That's the analogy of us,
She'll never know,
That's how much I think about her,
But I think she suspects it.

When my gaze is fixed and my face appears vacant,
I remember ember lighting, cold nights in warm housing,
And in reflection sigh,
She'll never know,
The depth of my nostalgia,
How much of us I'm reminded,
But I think she neglects it,

I'm a scholar in the science of her,
A Doctor in her anatomy,
Well versed in her words,
At times her psychologist,
A testament to the extent I've studied her,
She'll never know,
That's because I'll never tell her,
I think she expects it,

She haunts the seconds in between the hours,
Her spectre stalks my imagination,
In the fortress of my mind she roams the halls,
Whispers reverberating,
She'll never know,
How many sleepless nights,
Months I've collected,

I love her.
Not to say I'll never love again,
My heart has many chambers,
Her room for her's reserved even if she never makes it,
The prodigal lover,
I'm still awaiting her arrival,
She'll never know,
Sunshine in December,
My love for her manifested,

She'll never know,
That's how I'd like to keep it,
That's because I'll never tell her,
But my love for her's no secret.
She's killing me,
Making me anaemic,
As if I bleed for her in ink,
Many pages served as plaster to stop the haemorrhaging of this pen,
She'll never know,
Stoic, She'd never show it even if she did,
So I hide from her my poems,
But I love for her this knowledge,
I need for her in moments,
But my want for her is chronic,