Unobtainable

She is the beauty that I cannot obtain because she is not an object, no trinket, no bobble, no toy. 

She is the essence of the breathless, and the scent of a shooting star. 

Yet she is not to be wished upon, she is not to be hoped for, she isn't even to be admired. 

She is to be known of but not known, to be spoken of but not spoken to. 

Like broken hands turning the torn pages of a story that no longer wants to be told. 

The pain inside of me is dull yet piercing, every time I think of her eyes, her lips, and her hands. 

The power of her words and how the sway my soul like an aging tree who roots futile hold the earth. 

She is the beauty that I cannot obtain, and yet waiting will do no good. 

I cannot afford to "Let go and let God". 

I can only defy sense and reason and reach into the fires of uncertainty. 

Without hope, without a wish, and without a fear of consequence. 

Either I will become ashes or I won't be burned at all.

Reviews

[...]

I read your words and wondered what it must be like for her - to live on an island where she can't hear these words. Does she know she's unobtainable? Does she accept it? Is she human or exceptionally human? Whatever the questions in my mind and whatever their answers, it's with well-defined expressions and lines that "she" breathes life on this page and makes me think thoroughly.

[Jupiter Jazz]

That's deep. I like.... is this woman "gone?"