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On Unrequited Love, Conclusion

Looking back on this stretch of time is something I find sort of entertaining. The mourning of a sad artist whose muse was untouchable, and for good reason. I won’t go into the details, but “gnarled roots” were chosen for a reason; if I did choose to climb this tree, my palms would have been flayed by the precarious grips on the path. And, universe willing I did manage to reach the top, it would have been for naught. The taste of the apple could never compare to the flavor I had created in my mind. Myself a starving artist, fantasizing about her was irresistible, and embellishments here or there for the sake of the artistry was again, irresistible. But it is unfair to paint her in this perfect light, as she, like myself, is human. To love a copy is unfair, to undermine her as a person is unfair. She, by virtue of being a real, flawed human being, holds more value than any immaculate copy I can weave in my head. I wish her the best, and, as I said, I ...
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On Unrequited Love, Pt. 5

Your Name Rolls off the tongue In resignation A bitter pill To swallow, But I imbibe it With resolve. Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Conclusion
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On Unrequited Love, Pt. 4

What lives in the mind is not what walks on the earth. In my own mind, you’ve been made ethereal, a radiant being who I covet like shining gold. But this is reality. No man is god, no woman a goddess. If I am to feel for you, to want you, it should be the true you. I do not want to love the gossamer fabrics my mind has wrapped you in, but the person underneath these immaculate layers. Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 5 Conclusion
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On Unrequited Love, Pt. 3

Life is not romance, Life is no novel, Poetry is feeling, A lens of reality. These poems that root In the feelings of you, Are nothing. Quips from Quasimodo to Esmerelda, Caliban’s coveting of Miranda, These bridges and stanzas I engineer to ebb Closer to you Will always crumble In the face of reality. Your heart is not immaculate, Your beauty not rapturous, You are a human, The same as I, But forever out of reach. Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Conclusion
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On Unrequited Love, Pt. 2

My memory always fails me But I seem to recall your bubbling giggle, And how it lifted my souls From the depths of my situation. My memory always fails me, But I seem to recall your purring voice, Reverberating through my heart, Through my veins, Leaving my fingertips numb. My memory always fails me, But I recall your feline smile, The sultry glint in your eyes That melted my skin Like wax wings in the sun. My memory always fails me, But I seem to recall your tantalizing form, Statuesque, Shaped of immaculate marble, And how the view was always marred By the iron bars of the prison I was locked behind, The key to which was out of sight. I seem to recall wishing That one day, I wouldn’t have to sustain myself On shadows of you, Tattered forgeries Created because My memory always fails me. Pt. 1 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Conclusion
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On Unrequited Love, Pt. 1

The apple furthest out of reach Is always imagined to be the sweetest. Rosy red, Glowing even through The grayest mornings, Enticing me to climb The gnarled roots That pin you against the sky Among the stars So far from my reach. Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Conclusion
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Daedalus and the Minotaur

When I forgave Daedalus For trapping me in her Endless, confounding mazes, (that were so complex I began to lose myself In their unraveling) It was under the impression that, In learning from my imprisonment, She would torture others no longer. That I was a mistake, A miscalculation, An error, In the endless strings Of blueprints and equations She immersed herself in. I myself am no saint, A monster, in the eyes of some Grecians, But even with my shortcomings, Surely I am entitled To an upheld bargain? To consistency? To respect? Through sad, brown eyes, I watch Daedalus build, Working on her newest masterpiece -or so she says- And I see a beast, Shouldering burdens Whose weight I once knew, Navigating tunnels That I mapped long ago, And I am reminded Of my own maze, And in thinking Of where I now stand, I wonder If I have truly escaped.
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