Another before I go to bed

Absent Lover



My lover holds my dreams
in her delicate palms
A soft haven for my soul
and refuge for my deepest emotions
She is my sun
and I orbit around her from a distance
Close enough to feel her glorious warmth yet
far enough away that she may
confuse me as something else-
A reflection, a glimmer in the night sky
full of celestial orbs, glowing and twinkling.
I have run my fingers through her
heavenly locks and caressed her silken face
Elated, like a blind man seeing his first sunset.

My lover only reciprocates
in my thoughts and idle dreams
She knows my name yet she
has never cried it out in the throes of
passion or rage that only lovers feel.

Through my mind we live in glorious extacy,
completely devoted to our boundless love.
In life I walk down cold, dank streets,
Holding the hand of an absent lover.

I've known the feeling, and I feel this piece carries therapeutic properties for the poet. At first I thought I might like to see more concrete images, but now I do believe the metaphysical tendencies of the poet's metaphors strengthen the illusory nature of the desired lover. I enjoy how the poem ends with the lover basking in the imagined glow of his beloved. It is both beautiful--clinging to love in "cold, dank" places--and tragic--alone, cold and haunted by images, driven to back alleys because of the all-consuming fantasy. She becomes his addiction and isolates him from the no doubt busy street two blocks over. I do feel that a few more concrete images could drive the poem better--metaphysical girl vs. concrete reality. A few tweaks to the form might aid in the transition. Of course this is your baby so stay true to your vision.

The poem was born of teenage crush that turned into an idolazation (methinks this isn't a real word.) I use that word because obsession is to strong and doesn't really accuarately describe the relationship. She was a dear friend. I never revealed that I loved her. I was a late bloomer and she was cheerleader. My senior year I grew and filled in and we became sort of an item. I didn't allow it to go anywhere at that point because I realized that I had elevated her so high in the previous three years that there was no way she could live up to my vision of her.

Before that were some of the most agonizing years of my life. I have since revised the poem some and gave thought to adding more concrete images. But I decided that the lack of images for the mind to grasp added to the feeling of desparation. So, my friend, your analysis was right on.

I loved the canebrake btw.

This is beautiful. My favorite line is 'Elated, like a blind man seeing his first sunset.' And the last two lines are absolutely haunting! I hope to read more from you, you're quite talented.

I appreciate the encouragement.