Some have called me mother.
Others have called me healer.
But you, I wish would call me lover.
I am usually drawn to that which doesn’t want to be claimed.
That which indulges in uncertainties and foreign mysteries.
I am drawn to he who hides away behind walls that never come down.
Walls that even the great walls of China would envy.
These walls don’t shudder, neither does he stutter when he rejects me over and over again, mostly without saying as much as a word. It’s in the way he moves… Fortunately, it’s not just me he declines but all else.
Every and anyone who tries to get too close.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were mad but no sweet one; you are everything but mad. Plain genius in waiting.
As i sit back, fully placing all my weight on this crooked chair, just so I can fantasize about you more comfortably. There’s my machine right before my eyes, measuring tape over my skinny neck, a scissor to my left, a chalk and some pins to the right.
Running my fingers through your fabric laying in front of me right on top the sewing machine awaiting further pressure to create this masterpiece. Your masterpiece.
My excuse is that I’m awaiting electricity so I can channel this frustration into something creative but even that hasn’t come.
The creativity that is. I’m intentionally holding off just so I can see you more.
When shall I ever cum?
I’ve always tried to control things but in the end that’s what controls me, so also does this lusting madness I feel for you.
I crave a man so intoxicating.
A man of unknown intentions.
One who unknowingly tells sweet lies and charms effortlessly.
One who knows nothing of what I want for and from him.
I crave a man…
A man who never notices me.
A man cold to the touch because an ice box replaced his heart. A man who considers hot water his foe.
A man deeply wounded yet embraces his battle scars whilst refusing to treat them but I’d count your fears if you’d let me.
Might as well face it.
Oh distant lover of mine; when will you turn and look at me?
See me as I am.
See me as I see you, for all that you are which goes beyond your outer appearance.
However pleasing to the eye you may be; to me, you are more than just beauty. Oh but a beauty you are…
But never mind that.
Tonight, I want you in the most intimate of ways; I need you to sober up in me. I want you to drown in my Milky Way as I reassure you of my undying loyalty to this unrequited desire.
I can have any other but no other man nor woman is going to do. All attempts to get you to notice me have hitherto proved unsuccessful.
Must I go on?
I’m like a troubadour on blended knee awaiting the day you regard me. Beyond the fabrics I put together for you; let me piece you together in and through me.
Do you not notice my coquettish ways? The twinkle in my eye when you walk into my store, do you not see that? Or the ever so innocent stares I give when I’m drawn into the glory of all the man that you are.
Permit me to lull you with my words. Sadly, this is the only piece of me you’d get to feel because those walls you put up have bruised me way too many times for me to go on climbing.
These amorous emotions have clouded my judgement. Are you more than the man I paint you out to be or are you just a shadow of who you could be?
Who are you? What are you?
Irrelevant; it may seem, but, to me, you are all the man that I need. This may be banal to you. I concede to my defeat.
Consider this my love letter oh imaginary lover of mine.
Yet still, you pick up the fabrics that belong to you and walk right out the door. Everytime it’s the same ending.
I wish one day you’d turn back and catch me staring at you and just let it be…
Let it be.