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Where do I begin? Where did this all begin?
It is you - my latest infatuation
Of mind, body, and spirit of life thus far.
I seek those sparkling pools,
Meeting them only for seconds. If only
I could swim in them - into your life forever!

My gaze wavers from flashing eye to gentle lips,
Dreaming of the day that they shall be mine!

Amiss - too wrong and absurd
Is this nervous obsession of thinking
And inhalation of you - quiet precision.
Three moons- the abstract of a beginning?
I lightly reached for your fingers and
Stroked that coarse, beautiful hair with my face -
Your tender skin enticed me further!

But now, how could I ever sleep again?
For you are no longer there,
So I now surrender unto Fear
And, therefore, unto Death.

It was bittersweet. Yes, let allowance to that!
For we would never know what our worlds could have
Shared together for minutes towards forever -
Such a never-ending peace!
Keep your look close, and may I
Occupy one thought, even if I were in
The lowest rank or of the utmost pithy memory!

I feel so much like I am especially yours -
No matter what Heaven or earth
May suffer unto this desperate soul.
I will always be yours and have so much of you
Within my very depth forever…

~

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Passive night: the image is lamplight
Dancing about the misting grass,
Giving secret airs of bereaving chill.
Twilight hushes the calling birds,
And the Moon directs the west wind:

I try forward, through this heavy force,
And extend into the silver unknown,
Searching for my comfort.
This is too strong a disposition, and
Too near for me to handle!
Insatiable soul! Neither right
Nor wrong impresses quite so well.
I will never be good enough.

Kill this off, O Holy One!
Rip this flesh into the particles
Of borrowed wishes and dreams of Your ultimate regret!
I am sick and confused of fighting and loving,
And never having one or the other:
Whether a gilded love or life!

Memory unbrokenly retracts,
And new scenes bring you closer to my breath.
Ventures of mind seek you first:
Your remarkable smile, your stride, your words -
Fantasies ensue, and my heart leaps up!

Just run forth, through this somber fog.
Forget the laws of man and life,
If only for this time, for me, at the least.
I can recant all the hammered lessons
Behind in an innocent haze
Along with my innocent life.

Concede to my request, and draw closer to me!
Though I do nothing physical, yet,
To bring you hither, so I shall stretch farther into the night.
May I seek you now, amidst my hurt, wrath, and desire.

Come to me still, and come soon enough!

~

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Carousing
Genius scorns these newly transferred emotions,
While the moonlight whispers softly in the night
For me to bear the trying tests of time
Until Paradise or Hell bids my soul away.

And with me I will take my sin,
The soiled rags of such insolent thoughts,
Which you have come to miserly posses.
This smudge can never clear,
For with you I shall always be.
My mind will never settle;
My heart shall ever heave.

Decadence will my life contain,
And your being will my lust sustain!
Purge me, yes, of this audacious vice
From this onward hunger.
Silently, I await Death to rescue me!

Hindrance
The faithful curtain, black and heavy leaden,
Separates the questioned from the logic,
Accepted and disputed,
Secular from Savior.

My disease - a paralysis of wretched flesh
Craves what can never be now;
With the exploits of a darkened trio
Gladly satisfied. The addiction is stronger!
However, the curtain is sealed evermore.
The show is long retired,
So may the cobweb weave slowly in the bend.

Allow ethic a durable retreat from this mind,
And I hope the same for thee, even more strongly!
This only wish: to forget yourself for me,
For I am ever hindered for Eternity's sake.

Risk
Every step you take - forward or from,
The eyes of vigilant adversaries
Stalk to strike, to call out and slander
Against me for another connection.
Do you keep an audible distance and hushed notion
Out of your draw for them or me? - a constant inquiry.

By stealing a look, I see from my corners
The perusal of the serpent, though he knows it not.
But I discern and feel it, yes,
Even when the wax has softened,
And the flame kindly flickers onward.

This risk: I do take it all for you!
You deserve much more than the rest - so let it be!
Continue your subtle lines and quick glances for me,
Because your risk holds more meaning in such deeds.
Should I care more? Risk less, or more?

Incessancy
How can considerable pain and steady marvel
Tend to fearful doubt and apprehension?
I know not now an up from a down,
Or what constitutes misery from splendor.
This game acts on, moving me from square to square
Away from you and towards…

A loss of words and sanity sinks from this suffocation.
Sweet does cover the tart taste, in fact,
And the vein hails what calms and soothes each pulse.
But Nature lies and anguish persists to steal life:
Winter sends Fate to the barren oak; the leaves meekly leave.

How much longer? How soon will your charm, smile,
Songs, and aura fall away from me? Be it now or slow?
How will dreams appear? Surely dreams shall go!
Just stop this relentless hurt and sickness,
Though the cure and the effect are out of your reach.
Oh, how you will never know!

Spite
Even throughout the storm of the incubus,
And the shaking and waterfalls of human salt,
My defiance lingers on. As night falls away,
A threatening light burns through the needle's eye.

Deliberate malice - once an evil could never
Stoop so low, I chance it and call the rules my own.
"Drink from this poisoned chalice" -
Such a perpetually proposed ultimatum.
Do I dare display clever impudence?
The Holy Elixir is but at my heart's earnest touch!

And this act will be cured - forgiven instantly.
If only I could forget you in that moment's notice,
The forces of error would submit to frail want of right.
May this aberration fall fast, so from bliss will my life arise!

~

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What remark can successfully end a madness?
The storm has sifted, and barely a sprinkle proceeds.
Only a subtle satisfaction is provided from you;
I shall entertain its concision, as a slight confession,
Though not as a cure for the pounding ambiguity.

Days awaken a new journey - some correlation.
Some way, somehow a word or glance,
Even a thought curiously slips from such full edges of flesh!
I do carry them feebly as rising evidence,
Even if this sheer, perfected glass of reason
Shall break with a finger's press.
Still, I will carry it on!

Every object even molds to your being,
Presiding over every crevice, concealed and broadcast,
Of my fallen mind. The words of every song,
And the lines of every work speak your charm sans error!

You, this fashioned shadow, take the Giver's place,
Keeping a loving calm over my heart; this claims no other.
How can this be? When before it strove to choke and stifle?

I study your eyes' trips around and towards my own,
Leaving simple memories for an unfulfilled pleasure.
Even still, the days shall progress,
And may your pulsing rays convince me further.

What motive, however? What aim? God, tell me!
Just give me a final mark! Why delay your verdict?
I have long lounged this life in a bed of poison flora!
Finish it off and tuck me in tightly!
Disable the lamp and lock the door shut!

Oh, how I shall love you ever more!
That will never change, at least on this I sincerely pray.
This chronic uncertainty now becomes a famished pain:
Feed it or starve it still; take it or leave it forever.
Remember that we two have this game to play,
And we will prolong it forth until the death of me comes!

*Inspired from an except in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890) by Oscar Wilde
~

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Silent dreams, all coming forth at once -
Disbelief bolsters with every coming hour:
Seconds when I am with you,
Even shorter when I am not.

As many times as a continual whisper
Has given me this lasting optimism of honored advance,
Some throbbing instinct bursts out,
Denying any feeling savored for me.

Metamorphosis - a novel creation
Of Qualm and Foolishness does cloud my psyche.
Perhaps if you never loved me?
Never saw a beam or felt a glowing orb's spark
Of some possible traction of heart? Perchance even sham?

Though Fate confers little jest on my part,
With us, two merged on some occasion:
Walking, talking, even a slight shift of the arms
Deigns me as a fool, irritating the wound.

Endless tales are born of themselves:
Rejection of what my blackened eyes do see,
That trickle salts from that reality's potential,
And further stretches my disillusion.

My mind must have somehow formed
A strict utterance, a dream within our actuality,
Giving it height and depth for me, to love you,
To admire you, to simply want you in spite of me,
The being of a revived affinity so long ago…

Time - the sands have seeped so low
As Fate prepares to cut our apparently interim strings.
Maybe the initial showed no compassion.
I wanted you so badly for me to care.

Our glances have weakened and the air is now thinning.
I can feel it, but I deduce that you feel impervious,
Or perhaps you have lost it sooner that I had hoped.
This only brings a secured terror to my soul;

But a dimmer shimmer shows some ecstasy
From your neared another and instance with them.
I am not completely alone now,
But just enough to write these lines.
Just enough to want you hear.

Though every day, a closeness is set:
A present paradox, but a gift, nonetheless,
To keep me sound until the contrary leads.
But what am I searching for then?

You define love more than what anything could express!
Not merely the physical, but your mind:
Most beautiful, and every chorded song,
So rich and pure, having everything and so much more!

I envision our possible future unhindered:
Completing this world with our every word,
Our every touch, every idea, and every kiss.
A perfect world, with all commands at our side.
And never again would a line carry anger so cold and scoured!

The senses are closing, for night emits its tranquil glows.
You, my star, choose not to submit
Or either act taciturn as not to shine as brightly:
A forlornness - for I cannot spot you among the billions.

Another comedy conceived, amusing Death further.
I consider this mar as a baffling necessity:
A need for you as a pining affliction.
I am drowning now to survive, not to float away.

Why so cruel? Let me rest my troubled head
And dream in deep sleep of you with me,
Never waking up to the dead reality of day.
Let me rest and envision our ever after -
You, my interminable love and life.

Still, these words come like dried and withered leaves,
For you will never read them and know their deep appeal.
I feel so distanced; nothing can repair my love-lacked life!
Irreparable enough, for too much time has passed.

Because of you, in a cage will my body lie,
Never giving to another and never
Wanting another's love but your own!
Others begin to forward, and you withdraw into a sheltered gloom.

Much has been wasted, as it seems to be:
Memories of your stride, the way you move your hands.
They are so unique and flawless - Oh! How perfect!
The past attests, "I held those hands, caressed those fibers,
And welcomed the silky smooth of your skin…".

So I cannot help feeling that a flame still flickers
Within those majestic eyes for my final confirmation.
Then again, does your attention ever form my image
For a second's notice - a picture simply tossed aside?

What can I do? Tell me what it is
That will make a change in your mind's eye.
Reserving in my every action, but keenly exploring yours.
This is all too much, excessively much to handle alone!

But a new beginning must begin somehow.
Fresh motives - for both you and for me!
Is this the best turn, the correct path in the tangled wood?
Questions keep rising and certainty is wiped afresh,
Let the Future handle my worry and may you be blessed!

Never would I think that you could truly establish
A higher heaven of love and persuasion on this earth!
A love so strong, for it seeks to strike and kill
The best-unanswered love our time has ever known!

You really do complete me,
And your being is my own!
No matter where you go, or what you do,
My blood runs as yours - So let it run wild!

Should this poem be the last of my futile affairs of query,
My tears do flow for you, for you have now become my life!
I have only erratic dreams for which to look forward
And your presence for just a little while longer…
But I thank you for this passage of pain and joy, of wrong and right, and of Love and
Life!

~

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And so it goes - this continuance of inquiry.
A new encounter paves the way
For memory to denounce
All past denial of your intentions and my own.

Here once more, side by side,
As somewhat of a reproachful air flows between us,
Along with your luscious scent
Heightening my senses…
The most exquisite smell that life can provide in the flesh!
A product of desire, too genuinely sweet to be real for me.

Our arms gently touch,
And, once again, every motion undoubtedly becomes
The object of my fancy, and I simply smile,
Which erases every line of fear.

Now all cloying scents rush through
As a recollected passion to me,
And, taking sudden stops, I breathe you near.
But no, only a faint reminder
Surrounds a saddened appearance.

…

Now time has seasoned with many actions yet unaltered.
Staring at the flame - the heat,
Never threatening my finger's gentle stroke,
Yet my eyes do go black after so long a gaze.
Why burn so coldly?

Disorder blindly stretches down the long corridor,
Ever moving me forward, door after door,
With stoic memoirs of the days' chances,
Waiting for that day, when it does not come.
How will I react then?

Your features look more striking even,
But my heart yields not so much now
Of a real opportunity to be completely yours.
I do feel your air through the whole of a crowd,
Do you feel mine?

Oh! Just mind it never now!
Only breathe and live as you do so well,
And help me to remember
Why you are the last dream of my dying soul!
Will you help me to remember?

~

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Hours rapidly soar with the sun's rise and rest.
Lines are harshly written, detached to bring
Concordance of an offhand rapport.

Modest words make up our day, but some audacious
Scope of structure conveys a hopeful theory
Of a life hidden, waiting to blossom.

As a tinge of neglect allows for a recovery
Of sound, yet forever tainted, mind and heart,
This negligence turns its darker face on my being.

Again, a purposed fallacy does my soul deduce,
But hopeful is Fate, so permit a respite in that.
Let me form a world from these words for you.

My shabby wit knows not the phrases, nor the language
Of how to describe this rising state of insight and panic,
As a blank stream of acts and air present a content nature.

Living with this static regard, moving neither back nor front,
Has been a blessing and curse, cure and cancer.
Should I take this as reward? Though it is a hoax?

Judging from your looks, ideas which that lovely mind devises,
Something is there, only barely upheld.
How should I feel and allow a maze of conjectures?

Can I be mad, though hesitant I am still?
Cannot I forget and tolerate our minute connections
Until the wind calls me away? Even then, I love you harder!

Let another verse share some other feeling
And repeat these redundant questions of love's loss
And stupidities! Why mourn over the ill possessed?

Dreams know the current stage and share their tales fully,
Leaving rich enjoyments to my unconscious self.
Happy mists of mood finally make themselves known.

Continue avid dreams! Style exceptional models
And entwine the strings of every moment's destiny
When coincidence sways and scoffs at us!

Be a signal to me yet of an never-ending presence
And genial acceptance of my readiness to stay:
I am here and endeavor to pass my affection outward.

Know that I pick up the signs, purposed or illusory,
Though Guilt concludes to shade their possible truths.
Stay with me still and I shall forever stay with you!

~

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Another word and a few more lines
To pass my mind from day to day:
Wondering if these sickened pages
Are worth more than of luckless guesses.
Pushing off a much-needed approach to see
If my leaves can remain unplucked and bear.
But it is never over until you are cast away,
And even then shall the words continue their cry:

Such is a form, a breakaway:
………………Silence……………….
Time has arrived for a transformation
Of repetitive aspirations to either hasten or cease.
Words are slowly written now,
As sparse ruminations are swiftly lost in the days' events.
Angst seeps in to stifle the quick
And bring a final impression of our insinuated passion.
I have moved below your superior world,
Never figuring my way through your labyrinth.

Moving through the broadening chamber
Of a cognizant being much like your own,
I find that my ceaseless formulations of thoughts
Circle only in a native sphere,
And never dissipate forth to the winds of your plain.

I finally see the seasons of your motives,
For they parallel and even compliment my own.
Partiality surrounds my soul and strives every so strongly
To make me his and deter my speculations of you,
As somewhat in proof of an only fear.

And from here does my silence scream on -

Strange desires secretly unfold,
And I never know from which comes
The innocent spaces of time in changes
To form remorse now that things have vanished.

A loss of trust, of pleased adoration,
And double entendres of treasured moments,
In which a stagnate force
Gives way as a primary source.
Congeniality then eventually bounds forth
With an absent but meaningful eye and word.
Hospitality or devotion?

It has been too many months of living for you,
Never being myself, and always seeking approval.
I slip farther back than where I started,
Though I gradually see the chapters of your demeanor,
And renounce indecision only moderately.
How Hate still yearns to reach my zenith!

Words flow too easily surrounding few others.
Muteness does suffocate my mind's advances.
My silence greets your gracious air,
But the restrained ebb and flow is not enough
To protract this constant occupation.

What inhibits you from striving harder?
Granted, I am surprised you lasted this long!
Everything is now irreparable, incongruous!
These meager letters of agony provide dust for me now!

What good is a dream deferred?
Common words do match our eyes together,
But what from there? An indifferent look only to turn into
Alliance and benevolence within identical minutes?
What of this next? More frustration, sorrow, and damage?

What can I do now? How can I solve this?
Escapes ease material pain but sends drowning waves
Of psychological starvation after a second look.
Presence manifests a mental rest, yet each stanza is
Born of fabricated facts and patent refusals to seek you.

I can never be without a broken love,
Since your beauty enticed my eager soul!
No matter how I act or what I speak,
It does not move your mind astray
From my visage. If it is only that much,
Have your best and longest looks until I die from your life!

To sleep, possibly to die, cures reality's horrid laugh
Towards my daily anecdotes about this effort:
Trying to make sense of this sickly concern.

No more verses for now, until a shadow of twisted beams
Shines into my weary eyes. Yes, the days shall roll on
And turn everything around you in each day's reflections,
Just as they have done this many months past!

Oh! Scream on my eternal scream of silence!

~

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Author's Note: This is the tenth installment of my ongoing poetry collection entitled, Lines of an Unrequited Heart. It gives me great pleasure to continue my works with the first narrative summarizing how my many poems were inspired and their effect during my five stages of grief. May I persist in writing to shed an incessant feeling of angst and to move forward with optimism.
Someone once stated that life experiences are the only valuable and truly educational tools one can receive in his or her lifetime. Though I do not completely agree with this statement, one experience has certainly taken a heavy toll on my life and has awakened me to the true meaning of "moving through trying times" - my incident of an unrequited love affair. Some tests of faith appear much larger over others, which can cause a major setback in many of life's progressive movements. Luckily, I have found that writing has acted as an "anti-depressant," however ironic that simile may seem according to my poems, to my pessimistic passion. As I look back and reread my past works, I have noticed a transition of the five characteristics of the stages of grief: shock or disbelief, bargaining, depression or isolation, anger, and acceptance. Never before has a feeling so strong caused such a tremendous change in my abilities to express my feelings, to look at the realities of the world, and to work through the toughest of times.
What force attracts us to one another? I have always wanted to know why a person will try so hard to be noticed by someone of his or her fancy. I believe it starts last summer; nevertheless, those days almost appear as a blur compared to the days that follow. If someone reads even one of my poems, he or she will notice that I do not mention names. Leaving out the name of the one you love, or think you love, adds to the mystery and romance of a work, which is the reason why I leave that fatal name out of this narrative. Sometimes it pains me to write about my feelings, for I keep the mystery of the heart confined and let God do with it what He will. Even still, I will endeavor to reveal as much as I can of my stages.
The days accumulate into weeks, and the affinity grows steadily, though not strong enough to start writing stanzas upon stanzas of sappy and grievous phrases. During this time, seeing this person everyday gives me a lasting satisfaction, though some hesitation and meekness is apparent on my part. My love is already in a relationship, meaning there is no reason for any expectations of a "moving forward," if one wants to call it that. Therefore, I let simple gazes provide daily contentment for myself for a long while. I believe the first stage of grief, shock/ disbelief, came during Thanksgiving break, months after the initial assertion of my admiration. A long-awaited, yet realistically altered, occurrence gives me a paradoxical feeling - one of great joy and the other of complete sorrow. The anonymity of this occurrence is very important to me but is subtly expressed in a few of my poems. The shock that some form of a wish would be granted to me fills me with inspiration for the first of many poems, exclaiming my complete disbelief in the possibility that my unrequited love could actually feel the same way that I feel about them. My emotions at this point are very sporadic and uncontrollable, thus defining my first stage of grief. I would never know where these new roads would lead me in the coming months and about the storms in which they stretch endlessly.
Merely days after the precursor of grievous events discharges its pity and indifference on my seemingly weakened spirit, a desperate bargaining works itself in further words and phrases on this unrequited love. Looking through the window at something you really want but can never have directly relates to this feeling of desperation. If only I could have them for a little while longer. If I could spend a little time with them, gazing into their beautiful eyes, heart, mind, and spirit; that would be enough to take with me through the rest of my life - and be eternally gracious. I say these words then, of course, only to cover the truth that I would rather want that special person by my side forever. A constant yearning and desire for their presence are the results of such pathetic bargaining. Inquiries are made to an absent listener and reader of my distress, making the extreme anxiety more devastating with the passing days and weeks. This is the start of the lowest and darkest times that I have ever experienced, which leads to emotional and physical pain, as well as a state of complete depression and isolation.
Relentless headaches, rejection of decency and order, and absolute confusion sweep the normality from my life during the first two weeks of December. School life is seeing a complete change at this point: many friendships are lost, rumors are spreading about me, trust is dwindling between people, and class work is not up to its usual par. Several poems are written to relieve the pain, and music is sought to disguise my love's permanent existence from my mind. Even still, every book and song reminds me of that person, making the depression harder and more intense. I purposefully push friends away and become detached out of fear and stress. I guess the fact that this person acts as if nothing ever happened or is completely unmoved, adds to my ultimate suffering. Sitting in class, every single day, wondering if they ever think about me, became a routine of, once again, paradoxical nature. My unrequited love returns my glances and smiles with a reciprocated assurance, yet an endless course of wonder fills my mind and drowns my heart, leaving dark color, poetry, and music to fill the void. I find myself rocking, internally crying, and screaming myself to sleep, asking God to rescue me through Death or Resurrection, whichever will perform the job quicker.
Along with depression and isolation comes the inevitable - anger. Humans are such humorous creatures: once they receive the thing they have yearned for, they are still dissatisfied, becoming depressed and angry with everyone besides themselves. Why should I be any different? Honestly, what compels me to think that reality would award me the gratification of turning a deflected and idle affection into some real and worthwhile? I believe that Conceit and Aberration must be acquaintances and have decided to befriend me during my most vulnerable time. Resentment towards those close to my love begins abruptly during January, and somewhat of a reproachful temperament takes hold between us. The number of glances and smiles slowly diminish, mainly of my own accord; yet, I become irritated and disgusted with that special person, keeping a faint affinity for them at heart. I want them completely erased from my life, vice versa, or for me to move somewhere completely new and start over, assuming that my current life is ruined by this disease of unfulfilled liking and desperation to stop the madness. Three weeks of bitter rage, however, neither brought them closer nor pushed them away. Fate is obviously very generous.
Now the storm is letting up, but the ailment is left without a cure. I have finally come to the point of accepting where we two are in this game, this stagnate position, this Purgatory of closeness and semblance of adoration. I love how everyday brings a connection between us, and I am becoming more content with current situations as the smiles and glances commence once again. After reviewing the course of this five-part experience, I can say that I have come a long way in dealing with such deep and powerful feelings. I have had the amazing help of meter and stanzas, God Almighty, and now paragraphs in revealing my fervent feelings of unrequited love. This is probably the best and worst experience of my life, and I am tremendously thankful for the opportunity to share my elations and troubles through verse and, finally, this narrative.