in wait of rejection

They call me coward.
As I stand in the bylines
And sigh and sob
And make many such futile noises
Of frustration.
Of loneliness.
Of may be even relief.
For to approach
To get off that cold slab on which
I sit,
And approach
What is seemingly
Unapproachable,
Will bring smiles,
At last at the seeming
lack of my inhibitions,
on the faces of

all my detractors
and they may even laugh
at my failure to bring home
what seemed out of reach.
even now that I stand in front of you.
And you look at me,
Or through,
Or past me.
And I pray.

(My eyes shut)
Let me off kindly
For I will never again take this same road,
For I am a coward.