Shame

I stare across from you,
your stationary
silhouette
smiling back, your fixed
eyes, holding a happiness
I long to have stretched
across my heart. I write
lines of genuine romantic
poetry, for your ears
alone, so you may know
how special you are to me,
even though our love has never
existed corporeally.
Neither of us are granted
opportunities in life,
to hold the hand of another,
the business of our lives
forbidding feelings from
naturally occurring. Instead,
we force ourselves into the naked
spotlight, suffering the existences
of fakes, who fabricate
desires to be with us,
when in fact our torment
is all they ever wished to garner.
You however, seem so serious,
in this unrealistic digital
empire of desperate lovers,
longing for affection. I court
you continuously,
describing in great
detail, honest
responses to your queries,
regardless of how awkward,
your compassionate
understanding
greeting me each time. But,
you
deceive
me,
treating me as an unintelligent
hound, luring me with
toys and bones
into a perfect corner,
where I am trapped behind
the barbed wire of your
cruel misdirection,
that you ensnared
for an honest romantic
like me. What right
did you have to fabricate
feelings in my chest
this long? But,
my complaints needn’t
ever be written or
voiced, for the digital
method of finding romance,
much like the lure
of bars
and clubs,
proves only that although
I try my hardest
to succeed,
I will never win
a single moment
longer than a second,
with a woman I long
to call my own.

-Derek Childs

This poem was written in response to the prompt ‘screen’, for #introtopoetry

 

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