Mar 18
J. Scott's picture

Love, Tangential

I'd like to say
I love her
only on the stage
(or perhaps,
more accurately, 
I love her offstage,
for that's where I am)
but still I think
that might be untrue.

See, I think I might
love her more often
than just that but
it's hard to say.

See, she is
so frequently
on stage and I
so frequently off,
so it's practically
our natural state.

It's a sort of
reverential thing
that I feel
towards her,
but somehow
And I know
she's no interest
in me beyond that
of professional respect
(at best) and 
uneasy friendship
tempered by her
visible dislike of
my coarser methods 
and general capacity
for fault.

I feel like Icarus
before her shining
glory of sunlight,
and I fall,
oh dear god do I fall.
I am the fool,
the love-struck cynic
at the feet of 
her marble majesty.

It's beautiful,
I suppose,
or tragic,
or one in the same,
as those two things
seem to be 
to us now,
but mostly,
it's insufferable,
I am insufferable.