Other HalfMature

“And such a nature is prone to love and ready to return love, always embracing that which is akin to him. And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together, and yet they could not explain what they desire of one another. For the intense yearning which each of them has towards the other does not appear to be the desire of lover's intercourse, but of something else which the soul of either evidently desires and cannot tell, and of which she has only a dark and doubtful presentiment.” – Aristophanes: The Symposium


Other half, do you exist?

Are you lies? Or are you truth?

Are you real? Or are you false?

Are you out there? Or am I just dreaming?

Am I just reaching?


Hoping for a better tomorrow with you by my side.

Is that just an illusion?

Is it a sad portrait of times not meant to go by?


Why have I not met you?

Is that my fault?

Did I make a mistake?

Did I fuck it all up?


Why do I feel this intense longing?

Though, we’ve never met. I feel so close to you.

Yet all the same a million miles away.


I need you. Why? I cannot tell.

Dark and doubtful presentiment is my own sort of hell.


It’s true; I yearn to be lost in the amazement of love.

I ache for a beautiful sort of friendship and intimacy.


But more than that I desire knowledge.

I want to know – no – I need to know.

Are you asking these questions too?

Do you feel these emotions too?

Do you hope the same way that I do?


Or is it just me?

Am I all alone?

Answer me!

 I need you too!

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed