A poem from 1992
Before I went
to bed
last night
I
wrote
a poem,
expected it to be a whinge
but
cutting it short
it achieved something
in a mystical way,
breaking through
a barrier.
I don’t expect this
poem
to achieve
a mystical thing
but
for your information
to give you a glimpse
deeper
into me.
In August or September
last year
we met
I,
in the depths of despair,
My rooms were swept
cleaned
dusted down
but not filled.
You knew
that I would fall in love with you
but somehow
you were driven on
to take a risk
high stakes
shades of make or
shades of break,
but I don’t hate you
for it.
Don’t absolve yourself
entirely of blame
for you knew
what has happened
might happen.
What you see as a crazy idea
I see as a variation
of the future,
which will never be
unless
a pure miracle occurs.
Why are my feelings a crazy idea?
Do you think
my intentions
are a short term goal?
Do you think
my affections
want to trail away?
Do you think
I would find it easy
spending my life with you
or any woman?
Does that mean
I have to back away
from the challenge?
You
you could not accept
"praise"
or
that someone appreciates
your beauty.
Is that still a problem?
Drip drip drip
Chinese water torture.
Could I get through to you?
Do you have ears to hear
that the way I feel
about you
is special
because I love you?
It’s true
you
are not the first
but
I wish
you were the last,
to make me feel like this.
I can say
out of sheer paranoia
it is not meant to be
this
special thing for you and me,
but -
it is true to say -
I would say it
about every girl in the world,
because
no-one ever wanted me like that
(except a girl
before the change
of spiritual allegiance
and that wore off
so quickly)
and so I expect
no-one ever will.
That Red Knight chases me, too.
I am cornered
in a no-win situation.
If I stay silent,
I never gain you.
If I go on and on
like
a broken
r
e
c
o
r
d -
I may lose
even our pure friendship.
God forbid!
If I choose the status quo
and bring this thing to a joke...?
So I
unleashed my pen
for one final assault.
Now it is my turn
to take the risk.
Now it is I
who raises the stakes.
Now it is I
who takes on himself
the blame
if you seldom talk to me
again.
Please
see the foolishness of love
the fool that wants you
to be his
but has resigned himself
to your answer.
Do not resent me.
Do not be annoyed with me.
Please forgive me,
for disturbing you.
