Yearning

I will call for you, but you will not hear me.
You will see my smile, but you will believe it to be a frown.
I have reached for you at night, but shadows have this
nagging way of warping things, don't you think?
And our shadows have grown so long over the years that they
are almost all that there is to what we see of each other
most days -- half-formed apologies
and already-forgotten pleas.
Have you ever wished that things were different?
Prayed to every god you could think of?
I've wished that I were a different person, one that you
could look at and believe to be beautiful.
Because I'd rather you be blinded by beauty
than be turned away by my ugliness.
But this is not a dream, and my life is
not another one of my fantasies.
Reality is crushing.
The things we hope for may never come to pass.
Are you content with our current standing?
Will you stand there, passive, as the years turn our desires
to dust and our wants become the air that we breathe,
until all that we are is simply
old yearnings, slowly dying needs?