Beyond Lines: A Perfect Penumbra

By

 Literature) 

There was a time that I lived for the affirmation of my peers. Did they appreciate me? Was I present and attentive enough? Did they love me the way I sought? Did I perform well? How many views did my latest post get? Am I standing out enough? I soon realized that my happiness had become dependent on these things and it was killing me.  

A Perfect Penumbra:

I'm the brightest star in your sky.

I burn for you, do you see me?


Are you happy now

that a piece of me is gone?

The part of me that loves you

is the part of me that lives.


Your eyes are moonstone,

limned with aurora.

Show me your shadow,

a perfect penumbra.


You're the eclipse to my crescent moon.

The bloodstain on my heart, somber maroon.


Your eyes are moonstone,

limned with aurora.

Show me your shadow,

a perfect penumbra.


I'm falling in love

with your perfect penumbra.


Convince)

As it is written, he's straight and has a girlfriend. And still, I managed to convince both of us that we were exclusive and that he loved me. The casual holding of hands and friendly embraces in the back seat of his car—some might call it platonic, but I felt all the feelings friends shouldn't feel for each other. I'd tell him I loved him and he'd hesitate. So I'd reassure him—it's not gay to love a friend. If only to hear him say it back, if only to hear it. The word "love" is spelled the same way no matter how you mean it. 


Confess) 

While I had convinced him that he loved me, he never did confess. His expression, despite the many memories we shared, was cold. There was nothing in his eyes that said "I want to be with you." Contrary to my intention, he was steadfast indifferent. He spent time with me because he had the time, not the inclination. Just like I didn't have the time, but I had my delusion to feed, lest it starve. 

 

Constellations) 

When it comes to first love, alignment is almost always forced. There were no stars. There was never even a sky. No eclipse between moon and sun. No phenomena, no nebula. Just lightyears of distance between his world and mine. I loved him with ambiguity—his imperfections, his standoffish persona, his insecurities. But that isn't love, it's an aspiration. If he's unreachable, then why am I reaching? 


Finality) 

Did he love me? No. He just loved the attention I gave him, the attention no woman has or will. But the truth is that there wasn't a moment when he touched me that he didn't envision her. I was the brightest star in his sky, that much is true. He just never looked up. Not once. Then one night, I was gone. 

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