Thursday, September 30, 2004

what in the hell am i doing awake?

i should be sleeping.
but here i sit.
it's been a long time since i've written a late night post.

i was just lying in bed and this is the story i was telling:

i walk through the door, and toss my keys on the counter.
let's go, i say--
i only have time for a quick fuck today.
i mean for it to sound playful, but it comes out with sharp edges.
you look up at me--the impatience in my voice, the quickness of my movements inevitably twisting something inside you.
your eyes go flat, you tilt your head just a little--chin out.
you turn away from me.
i sigh, willing myself to disregard my schedule and focus on my heart--
which lies somewhere deep inside the glaring man on the couch.
baby...i start.
we knew it would be like this.
just for a while--right?

so gently--but without patronizing you.
my words are like warm breath on an ice cube...
they make very little difference.
i slide into your lap--
your arms remain at your sides and i can feel the strength of your resolve.
and it begins to crumple me, like a sad, wasted piece of stationary.
for me to toss the boundaries of our relationship at you as i walked through the door was...
my hand cups the side of your neck, fingers reaching into your hair.
i am desperate for you to see me.
to understand.
i pull my legs up, and stradle your lap--
your face now in my hands.
i force you to look in my eyes.
you blink--
and my heart skips a beat, as i wonder if they'll stay closed,
your final step to shut me out.
relief floods me as the slow motion world we're suddenly in reveals that it was only a blink.
the stillness closes in on us.
we are in a very adult version of the staring contest.
and in one swift moment i'm on the floor and you're tearing my shirt off without regard to buttons.
you attack me like prey...
and i attack back.
neither of us making defensive moves--
both intent on winning, without a finish line in sight.
your skin is so hot on mine, from the anger inside...
your kisses are hard, though your lips are still so soft.
you bite my bottom lip as you pull back, slowly--your eyes on fire.
we're both out of breath already--and still mostly dressed.
you sit up, with your back against the couch.
i sit, silently.
i am neither ready to make an apology--
nor willing.
and you don't need one.
you pull me gently to you.
then fluidly remove your own shirt, pressing me into you.
you stroke my hair and sigh.
good thing i love you so much, or this would never work.
i smile into your neck...
loving the smell of you.
i know...
your kisses resume...with the lightest touch that gives me goosebumps.
sliding our pants off,
we scissor our bodies together--
lying on our sides, our faces close.
you whisper to me...
a few lines from the poem you wrote the day we met.
i trace your jaw with my finger, loving the coarseness of stubble.
your hands explore my body like it's the first time--
and i let out small moans...
everything so muted around the edges, so blurred...
we are wrapped in layers of cottony quiet.
where usually we are on fire, now we lay in peace.
the slow sweetness of it makes me late for school--
but i don't even notice.
i smile all the way through the lecture on Joseph Stalin.
i smile as i cross campus,
and i smile as i settle into my seat in the wrong class.
you have left me in a daze.
and i forget to promise myself to never forget what it feels like to fall in love.

no, it was no Fantasy Friday, but hey--it's only Thursday. ;)

thursday is a day full of promise, full of hope.
and monday is the exact opposite of that--sad but true.

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