A Temporary Heaven OR Love-Hate, Hobson's Choice

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Today’s poem first appeared here in 2017 and has since been substantially revised; it is but one of a number of poems that I am posting on either or both blogs that are no longer accessible in the archives. [Archives are available on the right hand side of any blog page.]

It can (and does) happen to anyone, gay or straight, male or female, young and old alike; we fall in love and, in return, are offered an ‘open’ relationship, no strings. It all sounds very ‘modern’ and we convince ourselves we are OK with the arrangement rather than reject it (and be rejected, in turn) for the raw deal it so often can be, especially where ‘open’ gives the green light to one party to look elsewhere.

 I know people who have spent the greater part of their lives persuading themselves that any deal is better than no deal, any arrangement better than none, all the one-sided sacrifices worth every heartbeat; it happened to me once. At the time I was feeling lonely, unloved and could see no light at the end of a long tunnel. I savoured every moment we spent together closing my mind to those aspects of his life in which I was never invited to play a part. I convinced myself I was a martyr to love, and almost enjoyed the role.

Ah, but only almost …

Few people knew about us, such was the nature of our relationship. One day, I confided in a friend who told me I was a fool to dance to his tune. I protested, insisting love was a tune to which only a fool would not dance. “On your own?” he asked, incredulous. “Sometimes, yes, but all the time…?

I knew he was right, of course, but it was a good while before I would admit it to myself, thereby freeing my tearful heart from such self-imposed shackles as I had been fooling myself were pretty ribbons around a box of delights I could not nor should not resist. On opening the box, though, I had seen only what I wanted to see, failing to get to grips with the psychology of wishful thinking.

Like most learning curves, it was a bumpy ride but, yes, worth every heartbeat just to get my life back. 

A TEMPORARY HEAVEN or LOVE-HATE, HOBSON'S CHOICE

As someone obsessed with public perception,

your body could only (ever) offer a temporary haven,

no strings attached, warning me from at the start

never to fall in love with you for love is only for fools

(you said)

You warned me at the start about falling in love

its course only ever likely to run true but in dreams,
and we 'worldly' types have (far) more sense 
than to let ourselves be carried away by such fantasies
of mind-body-spirit

Gladly I would let your incredible body take mine

in the hope you would (eventually) learn to love me,

despairing as each frantic, mindless, orgasm

ripping into us, much like s classic double-edged sword

we call honesty

My lover, no less indifferent to true love’s needs

than any folly of delusion on which its loneliness feeds,

remained true to his word, watched me fall apart,

sensing neither need nor responsibility (or should he?)

for my heart

Not before time, I walked away of my own free will,

much as I had been complicit in making of love’s heaven,

a living hell, years of mixed feelings ahead of me;

Yet, whatever hindsight might demand I do, a part of me 

goes on loving you

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007, 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared on the blog in 2007] RNT