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Love Stories, Poems and Stories of Spring. Paul McCafferty, Glasgow Poet

Unrequitable

by Paul McCafferty

So many things to say about stars.
So many things to say about what to say about stars.
So many things to say about the colour of the night.
So many things to say about saying things about the colour of the night.
So many things to be said about the images inside.
So many emotions, fleets of them, they sail through my mind, becoming a single one.
A vague sense of wanting something becomes her face again.
An elaborate sense of how she smiles.
A sharp vision of her in her warm rooms in her warm City where she moves behind a mosquito net, watching the moon from her appartment window.
Am I ever a thought to her?
Am I forgotten now?
The yellow moon sits aloft like a spotlight above her balmy City.
Even that darkness where her dreams move is soft to me now.
Everything is like walking through light, living, talking, reaching for her…
Swimming for her through living realms of light.
I find it, her gift to me, light, light, light, golden light, yellow-light-white-light that tastes then smells of
old books-Vanillin.
I try to evade my own imaginings.
Try to swim back to the centre of my own self but I
am not really trying.
I sit bathing in her imagined light.
Like that time I climbed the rooftops naked to lay moon-bathing on a chimney stack.
I sing wee songs including her name in each one made.
I Write something of her every day.
Im trying, you see, to imprint her name into the air…
No, I do it, I blow the songs, the poems, the thousand kisses into that vast ocean of that vast changeable light, hoping they will reach her.
I try stopping myself…But I don’t want stopping.
Hope is never something wrong, neither is the soul remembering another flame through time.
Love can only ever bring joy, even in rejection, I keep hope alive and the simple fact that she might ever remember me.
The fact that once, in the spiral memory of history we lived for one another and man, im tellin ye…
How we loved, it was a love that lit the darkness, a love that existed before city’s, before civillisations, a love that has never faltered, a love that can never end.

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