Longing For

Longing For

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I want to love you…
but only the terrible
would bring us close, the mercy of chance,
a death, the room collapsing, a blindness.
Rather than that, i sit and watch you talk,
with hopes impossible as your lies.

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I couldn’t have spoken like this yesterday, because when we’ve been apart, and I’m looking forward to seeing you, every thought is burnt up in a great flame. But then you come; and you’re so much more than I remembered, and what I want of you is so much more than an hour or two every now and then, with wastes of thirsty waiting between, that I can sit perfectly still beside you, like this, with that other vision in my mind, just quietly trusting it to come true.

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I am left alone; you in Persia, horizons away. Dearest Creature, my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

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Date Published (if article, journal entry, or letter): 
November 10, 1929
Letter Written To: 
Vita Sackville-West
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We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.

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Things have dropped from me. I have outlived certain desires; I have lost friends, some by death… others through sheer inability to cross the street.

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