The Blackboard reading a Fan letter from a Chalk

This is the second draft of the poem I wrote for my Contemporary Literature (CONLITE) class submitted last November 21, 2012. I will improve this more before sending it to C before this term ends just to end my fangirling feels.

I used the relationship of the blackboard and the chalk as a metaphor for the relationship of a star/celebrity and a fan. One of the difficulties I faced while writing this poem is avoiding to make the poem sound sensual and I have no idea if I succeeded in that aspect.

For all those loving someone who seems so impossible to reach, this is for you.

 

The Blackboard reading a Fan letter from a Chalk

For C

I have heard a lot of things about you:

seven meters wide, one and a half meters long

green

            (yes, we wonder why you’re called a blackboard)

compared to you, I, a chalk:

three and a half inches tall

pale, powdery, and fragile

is nothing;

                  but it doesn’t stop me and all the other chalks

from dreaming of being given the chance

to be with you

                        alone

                                  (even just for a day)

to fill your entire body with

lines that make

   letters that form

      words that create

         a universe of meaning.

Like the multitude of chalks

who have touched your body

I will fill you from

top

to

bottom; from left to right

with words, symbols, and even scribbles

until (I am now only half an inch tall)

       you realize how much I am willing to sacrifice

to be with you, to be part of you

and give significance to my existence.

When I am pressed against you, you

will realize that I am just like the other chalks who

have touched you—

nothing special in particular, the same white

stuff used to write on you,

who feels accomplished after using themselves

to be one with you.

You will never understand how one period—

one single insignificant touch between

you                         and                       me—

makes me very happy.

I can give you all of me,

it is easy—let my three and a half inch body

disappear in yours

like what the other chalks who have loved you (so much) did.

But I do not love that way

I chose to retain half an inch of me

                                                         for myself.

Isn’t that what a wise lover would do?

Love the beloved

                               and love the self

that is often ignored because of the other.

This is reality:

I can’t have you forever (in the same way that)

I will never be entirely yours

we can be together for a moment only;

later the eraser will touch the surface of your body

separating my particles from you

and all that’s left of me are the dust

that have found refuge in your crevices.

But unlike those who have disappeared

entirely,

             immediately

for loving and devoting themselves

to the thing they believe solely give meaning

to their lives,

                    I will still remain

Because in loving a part of myself, I

retain a piece of me

                               who will love you forever

                               who can admire you from a distance

cherishing the moment I filled

your seven by one and a half meters body

using three inches of mine.