Lonely Valentine
A poem by j. blake gordon
Because obsessive love has beauty too. Even when it’s unrequited—maybe even especially then. Because that way you’re on a permanent threshold of an imaginary heaven, suspended in a state of perfect anticipation. I remember it. It was painful, but so alive, it gave the most random objects a bright, shimmering border, infusing everything with a sense of shivering possibility. So near and yet…
as far as ever the luxury of being alone, of loving you and not having time for anyone else, while you’re living your life away from mine, as far as ever you’ve been – I don’t know where you are, how you sleep
—j blake gordon
"on a permanent threshold of an imaginary heaven"
I once kept an unrequited love going for almost a year by writing a short novel about a woman (me) winning back the heart of the man who'd kicked her to the curb (him). I was completely engaged and really believed that if I sent it to him he'd come back. However, not only didn't it achieve the desired goal, but it was never published, so that was that.
Thank you hugely for this. I'm right there now. First time I've experienced it in nearly 30 years. And even more intense this time...