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Love and trust, in the space bewteen what's said and what's heard in our life, makes all the difference in the world- Mr. Rogers
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| Where I'm coming from |
| 01.22.04 (9:14 am) [edit] |
Every week, we do this and every week I tell myself this is the last time. The annual phone call breaks the monotony of my day; I answer it eagerly and promise that next week, I’ll let it ring. Not today though, today I want to see you. Today, you sound as if you need some company. I admit it isn't the most perfect rationalization, but it’s still good enough for me to break my weekly pact. I agree to meet you there.
Sitting in coffee houses made for the intellectual encounters between lovers, we discuss the injustices in this world. You roll your eyes at my comment, we talk about it, I fall more in love. You make a brilliant point, we solve the world's problems, and I could careless. The real world is miles away as words pour from the mouth that I long to kiss. And not just any words, articulate well-spoken words that form ideas that I could never conceive.
You go back to the work in front of you. I continue to take you in. Your infinitely deep blue eyes scan the screen in front you- I wish you would look at me. Your hands move effortlessly- I wish they would hold me. Your face so beautifully set in the expression you make when you're concentrating- why can’t you think about me the way I dream of you.
I observe in silent contemplation, the line of your neck, the way you move, and the way you think. All the jokes, the way we agree to disagree so we can continue to argue without fighting, your spirit, your patience, the way your heart is behind everything you do, your carefree ways, how wonderful you are to strangers and how down the line our expectations of a lover match. Our wants, needs and desires align perfectly…
Finally you notice and catch me staring. Sorry, sometimes I can’t help it, the view from here is just too good, especially if you’re going to smile at me like that. What just crossed your mind? Which smile is that? There are at least seven different versions. Ahh, that smile, have I told you that smile, actually all seven of them, melt a place in me that I never knew existed. The knot in my stomach that was slowly releasing now pulls taught...
“What could you possibly be doing over there?”
"As usual, trying to figure out how to make you fall in love with me."
I wish I could say that and within an awkward silence, my frustration screams at me to say, I want you. I want your happiness, to kiss the mark on your neck, to run my hands through your hair. I want to receive all your silly ideas as well as the brilliant ones; I need to stare into those blue gems and not worry that I've seen too much. Let me learn every inch of your skin with my touch, with my mouth, let me hear the rhythmic beating of your amazing heart, allow yourself to feel my breathe on the back of your neck as we lie in my bed, as I hold you, warming you.
So many sweet responses stop short of being uttered. All I ever manage to say is “nothing, nothing important.” Nothing couldn’t be farther from the truth
This nothing is all I deserve though, even though there are moments when we are close to being everything for each other- it will return to nothing, when there are moments of perfection- back down to nothing, when you are THAT happy with me- yet, still I provoke nothing more then nothing. And although you allow me to see what it would be like to love you, and I allow myself to indulge in that fantasy of giving myself completely over to you- you let me fall back to nothing.
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