To Ezra

love-letter-600x402

Rafael Vasconselos

To Ezra or whomever he has become,

I am sick of love. Sick of shrill nerves and inculptations. The way your eyes find hers when we speak, as if I were the diversion rather than the imminent. As if she were a star that had crept down from heaven to witness first hand the terror of an unanswered wish. She does not share the same ecstasies. For we are mortal and she is seduction. There is no substance in her prophecies. She will exhaust your utility but she does not care at all about your content. For her to speak of love as if she had the requisite heart! But she is beautiful. I envy her that. To be plain implies desperation. To be plain implies that I am not extraordinary and thus only to be assumed in the absence of competitor. To speak against her would only diminish whatever credibility I have and yet I see that you stand now at the precipice. I know that she will not simply break you. She will dismantle you wholly. Remove all the bones and viscera that you will be not but the husk of your former self. You are the desperate one are you not? The suicidal one? Your mind is unsound. Lust, there can be no other explanation save for that. What do you know of her? What aside from beauty recommends her? Have you found a personality where others have so valiantly failed? There is one and I assure you it’s awful. If only you knew how she speaks to me! How she looks down on all women. How many lovers she simultaneously keeps. You will not hear it and I no longer hold your confidence. What does it say of me that I detest this woman but in her presence continue, with teeth clenched, to observe my reputation? Her insincerity wears upon us all! I am a simple woman. In comparison to her even my dreams appear humble. I do not care about wealth. I do not care so much for the spotlight but to be invisible now pains me. To go overlooked by you. To have that woman succeed me in everything is intolerable. I think of her nearly as much as you do I am afraid. She is a blight. How do I move forward when she occupies both exit and expectancy? I have tried ignoring her. She hates that, even I hold some use in rivalry. I suppose she needs others to pale in her company. I am like a pane of smudged glass all that remains apparent is defect.

With incomparable love and unseeingly desperation,

Grace

*

I decided to just have fun with the prompt. This is neither real nor based on any actual event.

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29 responses to “To Ezra

  1. Mortal versus immortal ideals! Well played! We who are not called by such a siren and god can truly see the blindness of love. We see the rocks she/he pulls us towards. Great pic for this poem.

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