The exquisite suffering of doubt.

It had been two years of exquisite suffering,
Sometimes it was exquisite,
Like when he smiled at me.
Sometimes it was suffering,
When he mooned over a lost love,
(And shared every gory detail, with me!)

So I put my pain aside,
Deny its existence,
And get on with regular,
Life.
But then when hopes are again stirred,
It returns....
The longing.

But when to put aside the fear of rejection?
When is the time where your fragile heart can take the risk?
That small window between,
When the sublime anticipation of your deepest desires are realised,
And when your soul will not withstand the devastation knowing that they will never be.
This is the exquisite suffering of doubt.