symphony
02-03-2014, 06:20 PM
This pain of pleasure. This pleasure of pain. All in one packed word.
Before I could feel it, I met it – in that ragged cliff where the land of language meets the sea of literature, that very edge of thought only poets are known to reach. Before we were friends, we were lovers. Then, when it finally, finally, touched my heart—this clever trick of a word—I blamed you, my poet. What I could lose, I now crave. I could have the luxury of not knowing. I could have lived my life without feeling. But you gave it letters, some sounds. You gave it a face and I could only stare. You gave it a build and I could only love.
And now it rains on my window. Now you rain on me, my love.
I don’t want you.
I have wanted with all of my heart.
I never called you.
I drew you in with all of my dreams.
[January 11, 2014]
Before I could feel it, I met it – in that ragged cliff where the land of language meets the sea of literature, that very edge of thought only poets are known to reach. Before we were friends, we were lovers. Then, when it finally, finally, touched my heart—this clever trick of a word—I blamed you, my poet. What I could lose, I now crave. I could have the luxury of not knowing. I could have lived my life without feeling. But you gave it letters, some sounds. You gave it a face and I could only stare. You gave it a build and I could only love.
And now it rains on my window. Now you rain on me, my love.
I don’t want you.
I have wanted with all of my heart.
I never called you.
I drew you in with all of my dreams.
[January 11, 2014]