Let me forget this desperate jealousy—
This anger that makes me less than me—
I will not watch entwined hands and despair—
Though my own fingers are not there!

I will not imagine fingertips on my cheeks—
For it is but a hopeless dream!
It is but a fruitless wish;
Never to know the touch of your lips!

Never to want the feel of your touch—
Because I won’t let myself feel that much!
I’d rather be an apathetic shell—
Even if I lose myself!

Even if I cannot stand—
This imagined feeling of your hands;
This jealous monster won’t consume me—
If I lose myself, it’ll be to apathy!

Chantrea Johari
01 November 2005