The moment your name touched
the ink of my poetry,
I knew you’d always be
a part of my alone,
my unconscious &
my waking moment, my
unnerving desires
& my silent wishes,
my unfinished words—
my all.
The distance never mattered.
You’re over there
but I feel you here—
unaware
of this unprecedented curse,
and this delightful unsure.
You are my sickness and my cure.
Your eyes
may never look at me the way that I
always look at you,
but the thought of
you creates a wonderful
world of possibilities
that I don’t mind
dreaming day and night—
you are a wish of the
extreme kind.
I crave for you the way
the desert craves for the rain.
The way a wasteland asks for
breathing things.
The way a pair
of deaf ears long
for music and melodies.
I am a vine
looking at the sky:
crawling, climbing, and twisting
on trees, and walls,
and fences to try
and reach for a star that shines
so impossibly bright.
Your smile, your voice, your eyes
caress me like an intimate lover,
and guide me
like a fallen angel.
You sent me flying like I’m made
to fall for you.
Please catch me and tell me what to do.
I never try to count the days or hours
that I look at you from afar—
from my little corner of the earth.
There’s no measure
enough to say how much
I love you.
How much this thing kills me.
I really wouldn’t know what’s next to infinity.
This burning fire that you lit inside
swallows my existence
and my world.
You are the sun and I bask in your impossibility—
whether or not you might love me.
/ajc.2015
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