Stand here, my sweet friend,
and let me tie this concrete block
to your ankle with a sturdy rope,
for indeed one of us must stay
firmly anchored to reality –
would you agree that this is more
your natural role than mine?
You deal in logic, incontrovertible facts,
things that can be proved and proved again.
Let me soar with my silken wings aflutter
through the rarefied air
I am accustomed to inhabiting.
Yes, this constellation
of promising emotions may be illusory,
but let me believe for as long as I can
that it’s all
grounded in truth
and not in wishful longing.
I will hold you blameless if I jolt to earth
with a thump that leaves a scar,
which may yet happen.
You are right, of course –
we have not yet
gazed into each other’s eyes,
touched each other’s skin,
breathed each other’s scent,
or pressed our soft and yearning lips together
in that first revelatory kiss.
I’d rather taste the bittersweet froth
and sip from the salver half full
than expect my portion of dreams to be
barren but safe.
I am no stranger to heart bruise;
my secret strength is my unshakable belief
in the eventual rightness of life.
© 1998, renewed 2012 RC deWinter
Reflecting on unconsummated passion.