lit mag poem for maxistentialist
even young, i was smitten
i’d stare at you for hours, fascinated by your inhuman beauty
and as i grew older, i cursed the pane of glass separating us
i longed to feel your touch on my innocent skin
i wanted your taste on my tongue
and so i went out and i met you with open arms
and you held me close to you in your vast embrace
and in your arms i felt alive
but just moments after you welcomed me into your arms,
you left me,
your breath still lingering in my hair
and day after day i waited for your return
and day after day i was disappointed
then you finally came back
and i ran out to scold you for leaving me alone for so long,
but it proved impossible to be angry at you,
because you met me with the same passion with which you had left
a passion which aroused in my heart a fire that even you coudn’t put out
that was the first night you sang to me,
and the way your thundering voice, resonating and strong,
that devilish flash you had in your eyes,
you struck me a hundred places at once,
and my fragile human heart threatened to collapse
after that beautiful night,
you left me again,
and all i could do was wait by that dreaded glass
and in the time since you’ve come and gone
and left me alone to wait for the storm
but every time you left me, i just loved you more
and one night you lulled me to sleep with your sweet song
and when i woke in the morning, you were still there,
waiting for me, as i had so often waited for you,
and still you were singing that same lullaby,
and i would’ve sworn that somewhere in those soft sounds
i heard you say that you love me too.
but of course i know it’s not true,
i know you couldn’t feel that way about me,
or maybe you just can’t feel that way at all,
but i’ll always carry a torch for you,
burning too strongly for even rain to wash out
