She Is the Product of Each Misjudged Love

She has been moulded
and formed
by the endless misery
each unfulfilled dream
and hope
had brought.

She is the product of each misjudged love.

She clings to the face
of each new moon
in the hope
of being
loved
or in the urge
to love
him.

But she is the product of each misjudged love.

Often I wonder
if her love
is not the love
for an idea,
for the thought
of a lover
rather than the person
itself?

But she is the product of each misjudged person...