Note: It's a monstrosity. A monstrosity born of my sorrow so deeply rooted in discontent with the current state of affairs. Whom do I truly love? One I've known for many months, or one I'd never truly met?
I am so deeply tortured and bound by this dilemma, so cruelly twisted and turned. Indeed, I can think of little else. I must write about it, lest I lose myself in confusion.
I edited the title. Supposed this would be more fitting, since it is essentially meant for someone I can never have. I missed my chance.
To Reconcile With My Heart
The hour dawns at last once more,
when I stand before the crooked gate,
my heart sinks deep from endless bore,
oh, the world I've come to hate.
The glares of false sophistication,
funneled by a dying nation
grieve me so in darkness still,
where has from my soul gone its trill?
Forevermore I stand in dark,
so that what I held once dear
should break away in sorrow clear
and become so very stark,
like freshly fallen winter snow,
like that upon which feeds the crow.
A corpse on legs I have become,
so dreaded in dismay,
feared morose, the people's scum.
How had my view become so gray?
As days go by and years fly past,
with such haste, I shan't recall the last
when my flame did not fall short,
it is your love I've come to thwart.
Have you loved me all those days?
Have you seen what I'd become,
a hollow shell in essence numb?
You made my mind an ailing maze,
so rooted deep in loss of voice,
in fear of making great a choice.
It was your glance, so subtle then,
that struck me with such soft accord,
that set alight my hand and pen,
for you I could have then adored.
Yet I did not, and missed my chance,
and all had leaned on one swift glance,
to melt a heart so lodged in stone,
and now I would not be alone.
Wherever had I failed then?
Was it courage, state of mind?
What had I truly sought to find?
Perhaps to feel your love again?
Although I had not heard your voice,
and never was I thrown a choice.
I love you still in depths of heart,
for those things not reason-bound,
and wish we'd never have to part,
to be your friend and lover crowned,
ever tortured, brought to heel,
forced before his fate to kneel,
killed in essence, burned in core,
waved goodbye outside your door.
Why have I not come forth to you?
Why did my words not bleed away,
to lead your soul so pure astray?
Tell me that you always knew.
Oh Julia, my heart you tore,
I love you still, forever more.
A letter to the one I've never spoken to:
Oh, Julia, indeed, I know only your name and face, oh so little by all regards. You will never read my letters, you shan't ever know my truth, for it is in cowardice and fear that my failures lie.
How could I be so tortured? What on Earth had happened to my wounded heart? I feel as if the world shatters beneath me, and though I should be content, my thoughts stray to you, and to you only. And I am poisoned by regret and restless nights in thought of you, though I haven't known you for a single day, so pained I am by ruthless fate that tore me.
Had you only known, if only had my thoughts been declared. Oh, my lesson I have learned, and now I come too late to you. For I am loyal to the one I chose in days of sorrow past, and I feel so bound. How only can I love her, when you I hold still in my heart?
Can I not be saved? Relieved from your memory? You are in my dreams, you are that which breaks my days, my thoughts and hopes, my very conscious choice. Yet you do not know, for you I'd never tell from shame and guilt alone.
Oh, when will the devil come for me?
James, known to some as Evgenij, the one you've never truly known.