Memories of Dreams Wasted

Cold brown eyes.
I was always intrigued
by the apathy I found
hovering just below the
surface.
I expected more.
I had hoped to 
find some warmth-
I knew it was there . . .
just not for me.
(It's never for me.)
And here I am, 3.. no, 4 years
later,
still dreaming of 
your eyes,
and remembering 
your lies.
Oh sure-
the memories fade,
until I see someone
who walks like you
or hear someone 
that talks like you,
and then all of a sudden
I'm yearning for you,
like I was
so long ago.
Did you know what I was thinking
behind my worshipful gaze?
I still wear my heart on my sleeve…
I can still hear your voice
on the phone,
and keep the note you wrote me
on Valentine's Day.
And I still pray for the day
when we meet again-
all of our rebellions over,
and our fires cooled.
To know you as a man-
not as a juvenile delinquent . . .
And to find acceptance in your heart . . .