Unrequited Love is Torture—Here's a Poem About It!

Pip and Estella. Quasimodo and Esmeralda. Harry and Cho. What do all these oddly named couples have in common? Agonizing, soul-wrenching, f-my-life unrequited love. And chances are, you too have endured this experience at some point in your life. Maybe it was brief. Maybe it remained steadfastly fixed in your crushed-to-pieces heart. Either way, you definitely remember it. Way too vividly.

It isn't just the rejection that makes this form of love so torturous. When inflicted by this spell, we feel a maddening mix of passion, emotion, lust, love and desire...and we can't exactly express our creepy-stalker feelings knowing they won't be returned, now can we? We desperately want to release this shitstorm of emotions but just. can't.

For these reasons, writers have spent centuries lamenting the agony of unrequited love. And since pretty much everyone can relate, we decided to share this extra-illuminating poem with you all. Written by British painter and writer Adrian Henri, "Tonight at Noon" captures the devastation of the feelings without getting too mopey. In fact, it's just as entertaining as it is beautiful.

Tonight at Noon
by, Adrian Henri

Tonight at noon
Pigeons will hunt cats through city backyards
Hitler will tell us to fight on the beaches and on the landing fields
A tunnel full of water will be built under Liverpool
Pigs will be sighted flying in formation over Woolton
And Nelson will not only get his eye back but his arm as well
White Americans will demonstrate for equal rights
In front of the Black house
And the monster has just created Dr. Frankenstein

Girls in bikinis are moonbathing
Folksongs are being sung by real folk
Art galleries are closed to people over 21
Poets get their poems in the Top 20
There's jobs for everybody and nobody wants them
In back alleys everywhere teenage lovers are kissing in broad daylight
In forgotten graveyards everywhere the dead will quietly bury the living
            and
You will tell me you love me
Tonight at noon

Maybe you can't write poetry yourself (I sure can't, and I actually do write for a living), but it's nice to remember that you're not alone in feeling the way you do—though it probably often feels like it.

Image: Refat Mamutov/ThinkStock

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