No

Love-starved,

I see how other-worldly you are.

I recall a story of a death camp convict

Obsessed with thoughts of a normal breakfast,

Becoming delirious,

Losing his mind.

Where I grew up

Courtly Love was nonexistent —

A delicacy out of reach,

People fighting over scraps.

But I recall yet another story,

About some medieval town under siege

Where everyone was starving to death,

Including the noble maiden,

For whom her lover from opposing camp

Had brought a loaf of bread,

And put it on the table in front of her.

She suffered just like everyone else

But remained a lady:

She held a long pause,

Just looking at her hope to live,

Retaining the regal demeanor

Of super-human calm.

Which one of the two I’d rather be

When I see you?

Of course… and that comes with a price.

The moment of truth —

Emaciated heart

Is shown the feast of a lifetime.

The smell of food is overwhelming:

The juicy bacon, crunchy toast

And over-easy eggs,

All wrapped in heavenly aroma

Of Oxford Street ground coffee.

My face is straight, but on the inside

I drool and faint, severely affected.

What would I do to stay alive?

Nothing.

Any gesture of impatience

Would be ugly,

Worse than death.

Instead, I’m doing something else,

Just for the hell of it.

I give my blessings to this treat,

I’m sprinkling it with fairy dust —

All glowing psychedelic colors;

The glitter of imagination

Is always pouring out; it’s my wealth,

And somewhere in a parallel dimension

It’s worth a lot.

I’m spicing up this food

For someone else, not me.

I bless you and I love you —

But I can’t have you.

I wish I had a choice

To walk away, not feel, forget.

But you’re all here in my head,

You’re all inside of me.

You’ve taken over.

There’s no escape from pain,

It’s truly tantalizing.

I might as well enjoy

Surreal suspension;

As long as I don’t move

I am in charge

To study quirks of time.

Please wait… Don’t feed me.

Don’t come up close.

It’s best if you ignore me —

‘Cause if you don’t,

My research will be ruined.

Keep starving me, I love it!

I only want a fantasy — not real you.

Perhaps it’s when you’d ask me:

“You don’t want me?”

“No.”

“But — do you mean it?”

“…No.”

What I mean is —

Elegance, in every deed.

It can be messy, wild, immoral.

But I have to be at peace.

For now, there is none.

I’m tempted. Hurting. Torn.

Is this the right time

For decision-making?

Especially knowing

That time is running out,

I’m not getting younger,

And this hunger is the killer,

Destroying what is left

Of that young maiden

Who grew up in a death camp?

My answer will be - No.

Please take my fairy dust,

My admiration,

My pain if that’s your fancy —

But leave my self-respect alone.

So I keep aching,

Drooling,

Shaking,

Fainting…

All with the straight face on.

It never ends… it’s getting old.

Please go ahead and tease me all you want.

Is this all you’ve got?

Put on your most sophisticated charms

And try me.

Bring it on, try harder.

I am not feeling anything…

Just kidding.

Tired. Worn. Delirious.

I need some sleep…

Not hungry anymore.

But what a lovely death.

You graced my eyes,

And took away my breath.

You’re not for me —

But I still bless you

And I love you.

August 14, 2019.