4.18.2009

I've never been accused of being affectionate--let alone too affectionate. Perhaps it's time.

4.06.2009

putting words in your mouth

"Wake up," she said in my head, in my dream about waking up and seeing her there. "Wake up from this five minutes rest and kindly remember what you've known through and through since that night in September. Layers of complexity are perplex, I see, but they are not a different answer, different path, or different key. It's the same as it has always been--until it isn't. It's the same as it always will be until it's no longer so. The words change; the meaning doesn't. The melody lilts, but the song stays the same. A non-choice is a 'no' but a non-choice in this voice makes me wonder, 'How so?' There is no avoiding choice only deciding not to partake--which is a decision I'm willing to make and one you're willing to accept and one that ultimately means your choice is my choice by means of not choosing. And what are you losing by my frank non-decision? Nothing less, nothing more--by choice and definition. What I offer you is what I have always offered you--until it's more. It's the same as it always will be until I have the confidence to decide to decide. My words change--their meaning only slightly. The tempo wanes, but the song stays the same. My missing you neither means that 'to miss' rhymes with 'kiss' nor that poetic license requires you dismiss what you want to shout into that massive space between our phones and our ears, 'I would give anything to silence your fears with an embrace lasting into tomorrow's dawn. (Like that one in the doorway when you confessed your confusion about where this had gone and I reassured you that going is not the same as too late--and you said that you'd taught me that when I was in slightly different psychological state.) I would give anything to know that you're safe at night as I watch you dreaming, to know that you're rested as I watch you awake, to know that you're happy as I watch you laugh--to know by my presence instead of my phone.' But you don't condone saying this directly--only through metaphor and pretentiously long sentences and not-poetry where words have meaning but also infinitude. Where express expression and intimate confession create a cathartic experience and intellectual progression. Where I love you means I love you--until it doesn't. Where it's the same as it always has been until it's 'yes' instead of 'no.' (The 'word' changes--the meaning most of all.) Where the rhythm advances, but the song stays the same."