Unattainable

Last week,  I posted “A Poem for Your Thoughts: Experiment 1: Stress” and I didn’t get too many comments.  However, one of my friends did respond.  While this poem isn’t focused on stress, I had a lot of fun writing it and do consider it a fun and collaborative piece.  I will be posting an actual poem about stress later this week, but for now, I hope you enjoy this slightly “stressful” poem 🙂

 

UnattainableJogger

My heart tightens in my chest
as the sound draws near
and I can hear
the dog’s leash jingle
in his grasp.
I watch his movement,
his biceps, triceps, hamstrings, quads
as he jogs with his dog
on this fine morning.

I watch his chest muscles,
his wavy hair, chiseled face,
oceanic eyes
as he jogs past me
yesterday, today, everyday
into my life, into my memory,
he stays.

His smile
takes my stress away.
His simple “good morning”
melts my heart
like sweet chocolate melting
on my tongue.
I want to hold him, touch him,
embrace him, love him
tenderly,
but all I do  is mutter
“good morning” back.

I go jogging everyday
just to see his handsome face,
to share some jokes, some words,
some accidental touches,
some innocent glances,
my oh -so imagined kisses
that will never come true,
but only in my wishes,
I pretend they do,
and sometimes he does too
as I bid him farewell
every single day.

I can’t help but stare at
his muscular arms
and gentle hands.
I want to hold them,
intertwine his fingers
with mine.

He tells me his obsession
with Angel
and in a flash,
I become the Devil
for I hate Angel, despise Angel.
I never met Angel,
but soon Angel will sleep with him,
cuddle with him, love him,
touch him tenderly, erotically.
I just jog with him
like his dog
and I really hate to jog.

But there’s a glimpse of hope,
Maybe, just maybe,
I think, could it be?
Could it really be?
Could Angel be a He?
Then he tells me
he loves women
smart, sweet and sexy,
just like her.

In that moment a giant boulder
comes crushing down on me
taking away all hope
for love and serendipity.

He asks if I have a crush
on anyone
and I just want
to punch him.
Doesn’t he know
I love him secretly?
He is the shining star
in my wet dreams,
the one that makes my heart sway,
my tummy cringe
and my brain go dumb.

He is the one
that teases me and pleases me,
jogs with me, accepts me
as a friend, as a companion,
to talk to, to joke with.

He is the one
my heart desires
but he will never
appease me
for he doesn’t swing
my way
and I just want
to punch him
and punch him
and punch him
so I don’t feel so stupid
for falling
in love
with someone
who’s straight.

“No, I don’t have
a crush.”

Cadillac

Tall and slender,
lots of curves,
buns of steel,
blue as the sky,
deep as the sea,
hopeful, bright,
and happy.

A golden interior,
leather seats
massaging my back,
caressing me.
Waiting in park,
waiting patiently.
Key to the engine,
key to his heart.

His every move
is my command.
Imagine,”
he sings
my favorite song.

Tap, tap, we drive
slowly, cautiously.
Over time, faster,
passionately.
Right turn, left turn,
U-turn, I turn.
We move in sync
to the traffic jam,
dancing in the moonlight.”

I light a cigarette,
the wind blows
my hair back.
His mirrored eyes
tell me how beautiful
I am.
While I’m lost
in thought,
he reads
my mind.
Green light, red light,
he knows to stop.

In hours of darkness,
he becomes my light.
When teardrops
block my vision,
he wipes away the rain.
When I become lost,
he’s my GPS.
In hours of sorrow,
he sings my song.

He takes me places
far away from here.
He sets me free
on the open highway,
under the star-filled sky.
He is “the wind
beneath my wings.

cadillac