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By Ali Date: 2008 Aug 29 Comment on this Work [[2008.08.29.22.13.641]] |
Nothing’s settled—nothing can be settled, right now. And I can’t sleep hardly at all. I haven’t slept well for days. Since I left. It’s been a little over two weeks; it feels like an eon, wrapped in a millennium, threaded with memories I can’t erase. Not that I’d want to, even if they ache, every now and then. I’m all for the burn, if there’s pleasure behind it. But I… Where was I? I too often get lost in music I seem only to hear—the song I caught in your eyes. The one that owns no words, just a melody that brings chaos and joy. And God, it makes me weak. Then again, so do you—even as you make me stronger. How’s that for a clever contradiction? I’m trying to be patient, to remind myself of what we are and aren’t. Each time I’ve almost convinced myself that I don’t want—no, don’t need—to talk to you, I realize that I’m lying to myself. I feel like I shouldn’t want to hear your voice, ask about your day, and tell you about mine. But, damn it all, I do. I always do. Yours is the first voice I want to hear, after I wake. Yours is the last face I want to see, before sleep. But I hold. I hesitate. I barely have a grip on it all, on myself, these wild desires. I don’t call. I called last. I don’t call, because it’s foolish. I don’t call, because I want you to call me. I don’t call, because…if I did, I’d say too much. Oh, the things I’d tell you. I’d likely talk your clothes off, through that telephone line. And what good what that do us, here and now, when we’re nowhere near…anywhere? So, nothing’s settled. And I barely sleep. And when I do, I dream of you. It all feels so real that I reach for you, when I’m still groggy with waking. When I’m still slow with a dream-shaken desire. I reach, but you’re not here. Why aren’t you here? Why aren't I there? I know, and I do not. Can I really cross these lines as easy as all that? And would have me, if I did? I think we're about to find out. |