By David Grappe '25
Photo Courtesy of David Grappe '25
A delicate touch almost links over a vast, broken arch. The arch stretches between two worlds barely conscious of themselves. Where the hands meet a tiny spark explodes like a fragrant blossom, those hands that turn round and round, the glowing ceiling that shines terrifically, my glance lands on her eyes with such force, such passion. My rose. Can I call you mine? Your eyes shine so that the stars, those fiery lights, are dim by contrast. My craving to love and to laugh is satisfied at long last. How tender your skin feels beneath my hand. Where does my longing for you stem from? How could I know as a child one day I’d love an angel? Is it written in the stars that we will be together? Is it destiny or instinct; that brute nature that drags my heart along the ground in a vicious way? Has society placed this idea of love in my mind? But no! Better to die than face such an ugly truth. Save me my heart. You’ll stand alone and have faith in all the simplicities and beauties of the world.