Two poems about our desire for affection.
April 19th, 2019 | Creative Writing
Mystery Boy
By Sacha Fattor
Who are you, if not the sweet boy
Of all my hopes and dreams
Here to fulfill my desires
Of love and happiness to be?
I raise a glass, a toast,
To our unstable and unknown future
Which lies deep in the subconscious
Of a heart that has been through enough
And I am but a simpleton, made to be cursed
To not know the feeling of your touch
For I am but a speck in society
That shall never measure up to thee
Instead I sit in my room and write
Imaginary love letters to a frail
Heart I will never meet, nor will
Ever have the pleasure to call my own
For this is the curse we suffer with
Due to owning a full heart demanding
Love and a mind, considered anything
But simple, to keep us company
I write to you, mystery boy, for I am
infatuated by thee, and would gladly
call you my own, for do the small
issue of your nonexistence not forbids us
But When Have I Known Anything At All?
By Anonymous
My mind is saturated--
Eyes infatuated.
Your own still haven’t faded
From grasp. I pass this time
With you in mind, your words
In mine, we pass the time.
And I can’t understand how I’ve spent
Even half of the nights of my life
Without your mind to be lent
To me, to be leaned upon.
Eyes reach through
Infinity. On and on;
Anon.
My hands in yours feel so small;
But when have I known anything at all?
I wish to grip, I fear the fall;
But when has knowing been a thing at all?
We create this space, this secret call;
But when have words meant anything at all?
This little infinity was built
From you and me;
We still reach, but we can’t see
In this space for you and me.
This space contains and separates;
Intertwines and dooms our fates.
Nullifies and defines our state
For longing leading to distaste.
For my mind is saturated--
Eyes infatuated.
Your own still haven’t faded
From grasp. I pass this time
With you in mind, your words
In mine, in time we’ll pass.