|
 Menu
|
|
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
|
my precious
Contributed by
awsmpilot
on
Thursday, 12th October 2006 @ 11:47:33 PM in AEST
Topic:
toughstuff
|
Dear Idnar,
If one other man in this world said they loved you more than I, how would you know?
If that one man in this world wrote his feelings for you, how would you believe?
If that man in this world showed you how they felt about you, how would he do it?
If a number of men like you,
I’m merely a number it seems.
If that one man makes you content,
then what more could I do?
The future has not happened yet,
and I don’t see who you will meet.
But I do know for a matter,
none will run into your path.
the way I was lucky to,
that feel a snuggly comfort in your
presence
more than I do, the way I do.
Please don’t ever leave me ‘lone,
for solitude isn’t so happy or friendly.
I know you once did care
before I crashed an egg in your hair.
I know you once did more than liked me
before I must have erred in personality.
You once told me how you thought
you did not see yourself as very attractive,
crediting your gorgeous senior looks
to today’s digital imaging. Now look at you.
You’ve gained a lot
of confidence it seems.
I once last year met you at Falcon game
to pose for a picture for your mom.
Then you told me you were going
back to the stands.
So we went our opposite ways.
Me with my friend who’s no longer here
leaning on rails where the view pays.
You to your seat all the way over there
or at least that’s what you said.
Your action took a different course,
only to be verified by my own eyes as
you walked by us with another man.
I have always wondered about that moment,
since when ever you pass by it’s a moment to cherish.
I’m not sorry to have been the lucky one to meet you, to have heard and then sought that
voice.
To have asked for a number,
a number for your
voice.
That one time chanted “hey Academy!”
and funny others lines.
Taking two-minute showers,
Smelling like flowers.
Creative, attractive.
Yes, powerful thoughts that aroused me
and probably others.
I feel like a better man, to have met your
beyond sweet nature.
But maybe I’m not so lucky
‘cause we’re not together.
In the spring of ’05,
you wrote: “I think that you want
more from our relationship but
I can’t give that to you. I still
want to get together but I
don’t want anything more
than friendship right now.”
I should’ve known what you meant
by that,
and now it may just be
a fact:
all women are incredibly fickle.
Maybe you should
have truthfully told me:
oletgohl.
I’m not sorry that I’m not the one,
the one guy that you were looking for.
I only wish that I didn’t have to be
the one with your unrequited love.
But if wishes were granted all the time,
what meaning would their be
to this world of pain and harsh judgment,
this world of seemingly fierce competition?
Which I don’t care to compete,
only against myself is it worthwhile.
Shove me away and find a guy to love,
Why did you not tell me sooner of this love?
At least you’re not any longer ‘lone,
that’s the last thing I’ve want to known.
It makes me happy
that you’re now with,
someone you can share
your precious warmth with.
It makes me happy
that you’re now with,
some other you can share
your mystifying hazel eyes with.
It makes me happy
that you’re now with,
another guy who you can share
your sweet happiness with.
It makes me happy only for,
for you are a happier lady.
But now I’m so very lonely cold,
I don’t know what is going to happen.
I might just wrap myself under my blankets,
to search among the synthesized
darkness for some strength within.
Maybe I will begin to wonder,
into the unknown world of sleep.
To dream of you and I so close together,
rather than let myself begin to weep.
If I do begin to dream,
I hope for you to meet me maybe again.
At Arby’s where I met you second,
in my first dream of you.
A second dream, I met you in an empty
second-floor joint, perhaps a coffee-shop.
It was sunny or light out and all
I remember of you is
only that you were there
with me, in some random
room, in my mind or some other world
at some random location—most definitely
nonexistent—fabricated by the yearning
loneliness of this mind.
When I met you the fourth time again,
it was real. It was almost like the other dreams,
except you didn’t like me the way you smiled
in other dreams.
Maybe the fourth time was really a nightmare,
after I had gone to sleep after a talk with you.
Just an instance of what I did fear,
to meet a special lady who did not dare
to give me a chance
to be close with you
to have just one more hug
or one kiss would do.
After some day perhaps tonight,
if we meet once more in a dream again,
it would be a wonderful night.
Perhaps I will have grown
and then you’ll have seen
all along the love I’ve owned.
You will one day see, or tonight,
the love I’ve always owned
that’s been dormant and quiet
and never loaned.
Locked up in a safer place
far away from my mind,
saved for you and only
the one that truly mattered.
But no matter what dream I have
it cannot compare to this reality.
For the sweetest dream is merely an illusion
a trick upon my spectacular senses,
which allow me to think the
sweetest thoughts I have of you.
My heart knows the feelings
of what it’s like to be hurt,
from brutal words to dying people.
Yet, it is not pumping fearfully in light of denial
since it knows to always beat strongly.
Since it has already felt the best feeling it ever,
when it was close to yours.
Because the heart knows there
are bigger and worse conditions:
What is the mass of an individual’s love
weighed against that of a thousand
malnutritioned, or starved dispositions?
In relativity, my heart is a happy heart
for it always remembers
the calm moments—Like those
when sandal-less feet
rested, half-buried into the pink-sanded
beach on an island, Harbor,
life seemingly paused, to taste a fresh row
of air, pure and enlightening.
At a time before I knew your life—
when it was amazingly close.
Yet, sometimes it struggles
to again find yours,
to find that comforting tempo of
your beautiful presence.
Copyright ©
awsmpilot
... [
2006-10-12 23:47:33]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: my precious
(User Rating: 1 )
by emystar on
Friday, 13th October 2006 @ 12:39:25 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
A masterpeice of beauty and pain.
huggs,
emy |
|
|
|
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
