Desire

Desire

Pure desire rolls over you in waves

gripping your heart till there’s

an acerbic taste in your mouth.

Not of jealousy, no.

But of the knowledge that

it’s something you really want but cannot get.

 

Pure desire is looking at people walking

along Shenton way, FiDi, the city

in black coats and knee-high leather boots

a black bag on one shoulder

a box file in one hand…

 

Pure desire is watching two people

next to each other, gazing at glaciers

one head resting on a shoulder

an arm looped around the other

 

Pure desire is looking at the pine trees

in the snowy forest.

And thinking, just thinking…

 

Pure desire is seeing people cheering

while you watch them behind the TV.

 

Pure desire is just desire. Hopes. Not reality.

 

 

 

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