& where’s next?
& where’s next?
i never got to know you. i slipped past you without a touch, but i will never forget that rancid smell. i passed you by with just an echo of anxiety, and i ran hard. i ran fast and i ran ran ran away.
i dare to look backwards and there’s no sign of you. are you lurking someplace, hidden from view? no, i can hear someone else behind me, also running. you must be chasing them now. i know i’m safe from you. i have a running partner too, and she’ll keep me running in the right direction.
thankyou for coming, and thankyou for the light. i know there will be night again when you have to leave, but i am content in the knowledge that you’ll be back. i can trust you. i do trust you. i trust that with every you, every night is less dark than the one before.
let me begin by simply saying welcome back! i won’t ask where you’ve been or why you had to go in the first place. the important thing is that you’re here now and you’ve decided to stay. i’ve missed you. so much. shall we hold hands and dance? i remember how we used to dance.
hello. i know that we haven’t spoken for some time. sorry, but i won’t be calling you any more. our time apart has been one of the most joyous periods of my life. actually, i’m not sorry that i wan’t be calling. this will be the last time you hear from me. i don’t want to feel your cold arms around me again. goodbye.
Last Saturday, while we sat waiting for the movie to begin, you asked me if I loved you. Of course, I was my charming self and told you I did. Then you asked me why. I stammered and stuttered and gave you some standard answers, that only a boy could muster. You seemed happy enough with what I said, and that was that.
Over the past week however, your question has echoed in my head, over and over. Did I answer how I truly feel? Were these the real reasons that I love you? While I’ve now decided that yes, everything I did say was true, there is more to say. Not to the question of why I love you, but rather, to the question of how I know that I love you. This might better explain how I feel about you, the depth of my love.
I care about you. I actually want to know how you are, and am concerned for you when you are down. I’m happy when you’re happy, sad when you’re sad. I want to make things better when you’re hurt, and help you up when you fall.
I’m interested in your day. How your classes were, who you met up with for lunch and what you and your friends are planning for the weekend. Why you bought those new shoes and why Mrs Harris is a bitch.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love the sex. Love it! But it’s not all I think about. When I wake in the morning and think of you, I wonder if you dreamt of me. When I’m running by the lake, I think how great it would be if you were running beside me. When I eat my breakfast, I’m thinking that you’ll already be at work, making lattes for people on their way to work. (I know how you hate getting up early to work). And when I’m in my studio, I wonder if you’re about to fall asleep in class.
Does this explain it? This is how I know I love you Cherie. My thoughts of you are pure and honest, sincere and innocent, natural and intimate. I wanted to share these thoughts with you. I wanted you to know how deeply this love is planted within me.
See you tonight.
P.S. Stop by the studio before dinner, I have a surprise.
It was everything and nothing like I imagined it would be. Being both friends and strangers, our script was uncertain and yet we both read it the same. For an instant it felt awkward but we needn’t have hurried. While the touch of your skin was what I craved, it is the honesty with which we spoke afterwards that is most cherished to me this morning. What we shared last night revealed to me what I knew was there even before we’d met. Our intimacy is not to be built on passion, but on spoken words. This chemistry is not of touch but of the mind and soul. Your heart warmed mine and for this I thank you.
Meet me in the kitchen, I’ve made us pancakes and coffee.