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Sam Chatts Poem
Can you see the radiance in her smile? That beautiful row of white goodness that makes me forget there are other people existing in the world. Can you see the sensuousness of her skin? That caramel chocolate sensation I love to drown my thoughts in... I know you can see the way her hips sway with such perfect synchronicity, the image alone conjures thoughts loving in perpetuity. Can you see her hazel eyes? Twin pools of perfection to cool this body on a hot summer day. I am but a watcher; if I were a collector of beautiful things I would spare no exertion to have her be mine.
Can you smell the scent of her femininity? An aroma so intoxicating that I will never want another high. Can you hear the sound of her voice? That calming husky baritone that brings waves of peace to my conscious mind. I know you can see that lovely mane of hair, that black hair with the specks of gold and red to entrance every eye. I am but an admirer; if I were a man of means I might have the courage to speak to her.
My eyes avoid catching hers in a moment stolen, so afraid am I that she will see the hunger brimming therein. I look at her and see everything that I am not but everything that I need. I see laughter and that carefree nonchalance of youth and brevity that I so crave but that elude me. I envy the water that gets to cascade down her body when she bathes. I envy the wind that gets to caress her long luscious legs as she dons that skirt that invokes feelings in me that are not easily suppressed. . I envy the sun that gets to warm her body when she is chilled. I envy the moon that watches over my sleeping beauty as she dreams of people she does know. I envy the man who gets her sighs and knows her dreams. I envy him not only because he is all she wants but because he is all that I can never be for her.
While my heart is the one that loves her with the fervour of a thousand fires and the intensity of a million lifetimes; he kisses her, touches her and holds her and she loves him to a place beyond distraction; he is all that she thinks she needs, he is her man. I am left to watch and admire from a distance. How can I compete? After all, he is the man of her childhood fantasies; all that I am is a girl who fell in love with the wrong goddess.
Copyright © Sam Chatts | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Sam Chatts Poem
I beg your forgiveness for I am not long for this world. Happenstance has led me down this path so crooked and forlorn. Misery has preceded my path and darkened my senses all but torn. Mistakes have illuminated my way though their light be a fallacy; an illusion to comfort a tortured mind, riddled with confusion and false fancy. ‘Tis only just to forgive me sisters, I am not long for this world.
An image wreaks havoc with my memory. A picture so horrendous the effects of its trauma echo through the hallways of time. The sight that for all my life I was so grateful to possess, leads me now to curse what gods may be that granted it me. For surely had I never seen the sight of him, cold and lifeless, I would have eventually endeavoured to be healed in my spirit. The fault is mine; it was never him but I that had the capacity to change. ‘Tis only right to forgive me father, I am not long for this world.
My middle name should rather have been disappointment. That is all I have ever delivered to her who brought me into the world and nurtured an infant into a lady. I call her Gaia, that is her spirit name. My existence has put lines on her face prematurely and caused her to despair time and time again. The audacity of me now to leave this earth without ever having produced for her a grandchild. The insolence of leaving only words to counter the preponderance of condolences from rejoicing enemies that shall now assail and abuse her. My soul is repentant, twas never the intent to hurt your heart dear Gaia. ; Tis only compassionate to forgive me mother, I am not long for this world.
As for the empty future that awaits me. No children to carry on the memory of me. No great achievements to render my life the content of legend. No great works to immortalise me in poem and prose. No others to mourn the passing of a life most unremarkable. Nothing but things, regrettable decisions, words left unsaid and the cold sound of silence to mark that most auspicious event. Death finds me waiting and unafraid with only the last words to pass from these lips; ‘tis only fair to forgive me self, for we are not long for this world.
Copyright © Sam Chatts | Year Posted 2013
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