A Picture and Letters

This is another poem I write through my own perspective. The boy I mention is gone far away, and I always think of him in my mind.

A Picture and Letters

 

A simple name.

Yet… it causes as much damage

as a million letters

transfixed.

 

As if the letters were knives

sharp as razors

piercing into my skin.

 

The pain is too much…

so I allow myself

never to read that

horrid name again.

 

But the letters

are like drugs.

Their effect

draws me in

closer

and

closer.

 

I need them.

Always.

 

And so I fall in deeper…

A picture.

How much harm could a multi-colored 4x6 inch piece of glossy paper do?

None I think.

HA. What a lie!

That little devil on my shoulder tricks me

but it’s no surprise.

He always does.

 

I look between the pixels

and my eyes form

the outline of

that round head,

bleach blonde hair lying motionless.

More detail comes into play

as I fight my will to shape

the bright blue eyes.

Their dazzle makes me hypnotic…

I cannot focus on anything else.

His perfection consumes my soul.

 

I lower my gaze

until I reach

the lips.

Chapped and pastel pink,

giving off a shine that

is heroin to my own lips.

I yearn for mine to touch his,

like a hopeless girl’s

coming in contact with

an angel’s.

 

All of a sudden,

I back away.

I shake my head nonstop

and say repeatedly,

“No, No, NO!”

Reality finally crashes down on me

and I begin to cry.

 

“You really thought you could make your imagination come true?”

utters the little voice on my left shoulder with a snicker.

I put my head down

and walk away.

 

I wipe away the flood of tears

that I shed all over my face,

but it is still stained

with sorrow and longing

that won’t ever fade away.

No matter how many times

I try to dab a Kleenex over it,

that text and those colors

will never fade away.