Black Rose / A letter to the Past

A total of 106 coupled verses make 58 pairs of verses, made in half a day... I do have an obsession with the past.

This is a letter to my past, 

Once I fell in lust with a young lass,

Why lust, you say? And not pure-hearted love?

Simply because I hated it, as I did doves,

So I kept my fantasies wholly unloved,

As a happy ending was not what I dreamt of,

Arrogant? Maybe, but my younger self knew better,

That boy already counted the days until that desire faltered, 

And eventually, that fantasy did lose to reality,

But then why did the boy feel so empty?

Despite getting the results he wholly desired, 

What urged him to go into night fevers?

To know that, I must turn back time,

With a few quick verses, and some rhymes.

...

You were the black rose of my wild fantasies,

Drawing me into your mazes with hypnotising melody,

Even if these pending desires are but, lustful desires,

Even if I know so much, and know not to confess ever,

My heart beat whenever I met you back then, 

The kind that makes me a rooster and you my dream hen, 

The kind that wakes me up every day earlier than the sun, 

Just to adore your sleeping smile before the magic's undone,

The reason I've never come around to confess,

It's because I know how much others would detest,

The tale of how the Hunchback loved Esmeralda, 

It has no good ending, nor has it seen good karma,

The tale of Frankenstein's monster desiring love,

Its destiny, even with love, is nothing to be jealous of,

The tale of the theatrical Phantom that haunts Christine,

The lass was betrothed to another although his love was pristine,

So why should I, one with no brave heart, strength or great mind,

Turn your gaze upon me, under where daylight would shine?

... 

Because it seems that I cared more than I let on,

Despite you've always viewed me as a leprechaun,

Even if love was never your strong suit, 

I know, I've tasted your boots,                                (and your friend's in 5th grade)

Even if you fawned over other guys,

And you wished your escorts would make a line,

Even if you are overestimated,

But still flaunted yourself out to be too educated,

Even if your acquaintances are jerks,

With arrogance and ignorance being their main perks,

It seems that among my countless aliases,

One still favours you over other lasses,

But I hope you understand,

These are but the words of an ex-fan,

So despite your great intellect, grace and pretty face,

And how in my house of cards, you'd be my Ace,

Despite how much I adored your looks,

And the number of times it was my heart that you shook,

I have moved on from my past without delay,

Carrying its burdens up until today,

Because now I finally have the courage, 

A pen and some skills I've harnessed, 

To write to you our first love poem,

And get ready, this will hit close to home.

...

Vy, you are the violet in my eyes,

Your beauty is not something to hide, 

But foremost, your intellect and grace, 

Still amazes the boy in me up to date,

But know this is not a word of a "brother",

I'm not the kind to play-pretend as a lover,

Despite knowing your innermost fantasies,

Are as naive and girlish as they can be,

I can easily grant your desires,

Putting you in a position to be admired,

Then dress you up as a Queen,

And myself as your personal fiend,

Perhaps then I'll whisper something into your ears,

Like "I have always adored you, my dear,

And you've got nothing to fear,

Because I will always be here",

But know that it is but a distant desire,

And to confess as such, would crown me a liar,

So in short, listen to these few last lines,

Because this might be the last you'd hear from me, something so kind,

"I have once loved you, it's true, I really did,

It's no lie, I promise, not one bit,

Because despite my nights of nasty fantasies,

I never wished them to be a reality,

I spent days lusting over your body,

Yet at night, I dreamed of us having a family",

A boyish desire, I know,

And not abandoning it would yield me great sorrows,

I suppose that now I've learned the ways of the pen,

I write down these verses to express love through the power it lent,

And I know, this will go nowhere for us,

But to confess, to me, is this much,

I do not expect you to understand,

As your English is as greased as a tin can,

But know this, and read it with your heart planned,

Because at day's end, few receive poems from a fan,

Ultimately I wish to say, "I've loved you so",

Even when knowing it's wrong to do so,

Now accept this work, my once crush,

Before the boy you knew becomes my husk,

As self-satisfying as this is, it is also my work,

As writing is now my only quirk,

So bury your sorrows and hide your mind,

Cover your mouth, as you read these lines,

I love you,

Even if it's not something I want to do,

So let's end this and put my old past to rest,

Before the great ridicule of this love becomes much more of a mess,

I wish for you to reach your happy ending,

Even if it seems it's your will that life is bending,

I know that you are a strong girl,

Despite I have never become your lover,

I wish to grant you momentary happiness,

Through these verses that enhance your loveliness,

Now let this work become eternal,

And to be kept as a relic rather than a journal,

So every time you re-read this, it seems as if time froze,

For me, a warbler bird again, praise you, my black rose.

- Stu. T.H. (November 15, 2023)

Author's Note

A letter to my elementary and secondary school crush (same person), even if I had no intentions of ever confessing nor have those feelings manifest to be anything more than a boyish fantasy. But also a tribute to my past self whom I no longer can recognize as a part of myself, "We're not man and boy, for in some aspects, you are more mature than I. But you, are neither my friend nor foe, but just more gasoline ready to be poured to ignite my flames of current desires."
It is a crush which I hold while bearing other burdens, even if it was but physical attraction, even if I was an ignorant goblin yearning for an arrogant angel. I'd like to move on, thus let me do this, for myself, and my past self. After all, if I wake up today, and still think of a yesterday belonged to years ago, I must pay tributes to be freed of this.
Under my various aliases, am I still that same boy?... Nope, no, certainly not.
Don't you just hate it when you've packed your stuff up to work or school and suddenly get reminded by your brain of your childhood crushes?

Music to accompany your reading time:
BGM: Never Gonna Give You Up - by Rick Astley

Reviews

[Julian]

Wow! I feel like I have just opened the author's personal journal and read entries that sequentially followed, for years, his deepest emotions, then his analysis of those emotions, then the struggle between rationalizing and accepting the fallout of the heart's follies. Although you do classify your works as generally fictional, this seems to have some shades of first person reality; how many of us ( especially when we reach my age!) can remember the feelings that we once had, and cherished, for another, perhaps deceiving ourselves into believing that there was something substantial, when in truth, those fantasies dissolved and left us feeling a void within...

[Stu. T.H.]

Ah... this is actually straight up non-fiction, the story is true all the way but it is truly a distant past to me now. In a way, I could see myself reading this one day in the future and not being able to recognize facts from fiction at all.
But~That's a story for another day. Thank you for stopping by! Hopefully I can translate more aspects of my personal past into more works in the future. Perhaps next time, it will be that wonderful fantasy I had travelling in a hillside region in an Eastern country on a vacation, but the name of the location is for now, discreet~