Tag Archives: unreciprocated love

11/29/08

The Knowing Heart

I know your heart now. I’ve placed too much hope on hope. I’ll erase your name from my mind.

Neither am I bitter nor overjoyed. I’ve accepted my stand and your unconscious stand. We are too different; our desires contrast from one another. Not to forget, I belong to a different dimension.

Let’s be realistic though, the sight of you still gives me a high. I end up with a silly grin, and the urge to faint on the spot. But I now know… what I wasn’t sure of.

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Logen L.

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05/22/08

Beings of Different Worlds

Your innocent eyes brings me profound misery. It is as though you have wrenched my beating heart with those graceful fingers and forced it into an over-small box.

The misery so profound because we are beings of separate dimensions and I’ve had the misfortune to fancy you. While in proximity we can be close, our hearts are separated by a heavy veil between each dimension.

Somehow, I hoped and believed I could challenge the laws of this world but I was stupid. I awaited the day you’d utter my name with the fevour of those who pray. It never came.

I’m a pathetic fool who is in love with you. I’m a dirty animal that you should rightly scorn because that is how it is. And I’m an idiot to leave myself vulnerable by trying to love.

Logen L.

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03/21/08

Hell’s Museum of Infatuation

I am a robber. There is an artifact I want from the museum. But the value of things on display are supposedly priceless.

Knowing I can only see that beautiful piece and not touch it makes me resentful. The piece has hypnotised my senses.

Robbing the museum will not make me the true possessor of it. After all, while I may be able to retrieve it, its soul will vanish. An empty shell, though beautiful, is meaningless…

If you do not already understand, read on. The artifact is a person, the museum represents the many obstacles. The talk of ‘robbery’ implies coercion to love.

Even if I force you to love me, what would I have gained? A person without a soul…

Logen

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02/5/08

The Irony of You

Under the starry skies shall we lay for eternity. Calming acoustic sounds drift from the distance. It is upon the sands of time that we sit, listening to the whispering seas. Discussing the cosmos of life and death and as ever shall I appreciate your voice.

As the cool zephyr sieves through your hair, like it does the palm trees, your ethereal face shan’t go unnoticed. And while we huddle for warmth, we draw our breaths as one. Thereon, eyes closed, your scent is adequate reassurance.

With suddenness, I gasp; you are gone. Too bad. This is but a dream… Irony…

Logen

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01/29/08

Love is the Triumph of Imagination over Intelligence

Within my skull, your wretched name is etched. I am your slave, for though the name resounds endlessly, never do I dare speak it, in fear of letting slip my fiery passion.

Your presence prompts my heart and mind to race. And all too soon, the heart triumphs every ounce of logic.

Had I the opportunity I’d stare forever into your eyes, the windows to your soul. On the rare chance upon which I caught glimpses into you eyes, I witnessed swimming playfulness, coupled with humbled maturity. Ah, alas, this is but inconsequential, for the witness shall only be a witness for evermore…

It is doubtful that you will ever say my name as if it were holy. With even more certainty and conviction, our gaze will never meet, so as to connect our souls as one. This I am sure, for I have spoken to the fates themselves. The crass tapestry they’ve woven is evident.

It reveals that I was right from the beginning. The world I reside at present, is not my home. It is yours.

You have coerced me without knowing it. Return me my heart.

“Love is the triumph of imagination over intellience.” -Henry Mencken

Logen

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11/18/07

Past Sonnet: Wishful Androgynous Lust

Over a year ago, I wrote this sonnet. It was inspired by the sleep paralysis that happened nightly. I saw things that caused me terror, but on certain nights, I had some control over what I saw. Hence the sonnet. My first, if I remember correctly, about the pains of unreciprocated love.

Written first in logishlifestyle.wordpress.com, here it is:

In darkened skies -the moon, the stars- they glow,
My heart, my soul, my bed belongs to you.
Eyelids shut and thence, thy sensual dew.
Beguiling scent; tight cords that bind my bones.

Stifled by sweet lips, the groans and moans…
An angel’s face, no doubt, the devil’s deal!
Charming eyes of fiery passion brew,
My wish, as such, for spinning Earth to slow.

At daylight’s prod, I see you nowhere here,
Beknown to me, enslaved by night-time’s bid.

Dire desperate lust, my futile tears.
To thrive, in other’s dreams, you need to feed.

Henceforth, pray I, the bleedin’ sun to die
Till then, my nightly visions, live to lie.

- Logen Lanka

You must really think I’m pathetic now. The first stanza talks about the paralysis process; I likened it to being bound.

Anyway, I’ve talked about wanting to take up drawing again. Maybe I’d do a concept drawing for this sonnet.

Logen

Upcoming: I’ll be talking about religion. Then, I’ll do a post on Section 377A.

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