Antithesis

I wrote you a love letter
but all you saw
were lines,
chicken scratchings
from my pen.

I played you a love song
but all you heard
was the hum
of strings straining
under the bow.

I gave you a gift
but all you saw
was yourself
because you forgot
to get me one.

I kissed your palm
but all you felt
was what my mouth
said out loud to you
on Tuesday.

I looked at your face
and all I saw
was twenty years
of you not knowing me
at all.

We glimpsed your death
and all we could do
was stare
it back into its cave
until spring.