Friday, March 11, 2011

From Afar

Each day I sit and watch my love

I watch her from afar

For fear of scaring her

I keep my love in shadows

My face, wounded of battle
scarred to point of un-identity

Hers better than an angels
Perfection is, in everyway, present
Like innocent in the eyes of a new born

I refer to her as thy lost

For I have found,
And felt what she will never

I do not possess her heart or her in ways I wish

But to see her happy,
Is enough to plug my gapping hole of loneliness

The best days are those that she confronts me

To buy a book, like she does offten,

Every book she buys, I read too

Informal, fictional, whatever her knowledge lies I want

In some small (extremely small) way it makes me feel like we have that connection

One day you come to me,
And asked me for advice

I tried to cover my face,
But you re-fused to let me

A book, you asked about

Lost, I got in your smile

Stare, I began too without realizing

And soon enough my scars I excepted

And one day, at your little coffee table,

You stared back too.



The Unknowngnome said...

Ah, the innocent eyes staring back beyond the un-identified into the afar.

I like it.

Rose said...

Hiding our wounds and scars be they inside or out/ protecting our hearts from breaking/ afraid always afraid of being hurt again always assuming we are not worthy of love. Sometimes, like your poem there is a happy ending if we only give love a chance!