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there's so much to do.
she hates starting sentences with "there is" because her high school English teacher put it in the ten commandments of boring writing.
things change.
she had allowed you to touch her.
it freaked her out for two weeks.
then, she gave in like a cat whose beloved owner has gone.
she came out from under the bed and tried to
trust
after having trusted a tall white stranger with candy
with my life
after a "sorry I was late, the second best taco joint in town was burning down and then a train blocked me."
"you are here. welcome here's my splayed neck, have it on a fucking platter. I'm not using it."
He laughed as he sat down, "thanks. I'd rather have a beer."
She was always fucking things up
in love
because it mattered so much
and such a boring why - the usual "my father was a monster. he was a charming monster."
"so many of them are."
"I love you."
"I'm sorry I don't even want to drive to see you anymore. it's gotten too long."
She balked subtly.
"but I thought we were going to watch 'La Dolce Vita' together."
"oh silly. we had fun. it was a nice time. just grow up and let go of the delusion that you love me." he felt that was weird to say 'you love me' but he didn't tell her of course, it would lead her on if he told her anything besides nothing.
"you're wrong. you're obviously not someone I perceive as perfect - or mythic - or magic. I have written enormous amounts about the wound you think you hide. It's that I think you're interesting. It is such a rare feeling." she starts crying softly but continues, "it is such a rare rare feeling that I want to stay in a room with someone - that I'm curious about you - that when I'm with you, I don't want to be anywhere else. I haven't felt it in such a long time. I had thought it was something from youth or madness."
He furrowed his intense brow, "I'm sorry. I know how you feel. I've been you."
---
Have you ever had someone tell you how magically wonderful you are?
I"m going to try. Partly, it's out of guilt that I'm unable to give myself to you. Maybe I'm too broken after the last fall off the Dumpty wall. and the reason I want to give you everything - the reason I'm so torn.
is I do love you.
when I breathe out 'I love you' spontaneously after you have awakened my body to it's purpose with so much devoted mutual pleasure after I had been blue ovaried so much it was navy. You brought me back to life.
I do not say that lightly.
I'm not sure of your motives, but the result is that you are the kindest most generous giving fascinating hard nut of a man in my knowing. I love making love to you. My body responds to you like I have been craving: someone using my instrument who is a maestro.
it is euphoric
and now, I'm stuck in being dishonest with you.
I'm going to have to correct it myself. I'm going to have to think of the correct words to say something like "fuck me. I'm so very fucking sorry. I would have made you insane/bored after a year or so anyway. consider yourself lucky. you saved my life a little bit. I was whimpering in a hole, and you reached your hand in. I made love to you like a starving woman, and I love it. I still enjoy making love to you, but I'm not going to future pretend very much. It's not where I'm at. I'm at survival. I'm at walking too soon on a broken pelvis. when I say I love you, I'm not lying - except that one time. I never ever want to hurt you like I was just hurt. If you have any real feelings for me, I would suggest you put them away. Let's have fun. let's fling. I don't even know what that is. when I was younger, I used to say things like your mouth can lie to me with it's tawdry thing called words - but your body never lies to me - your body always tells me the truth. now that I'm older, I realize lust is not love and no lust is not no love. but I digress. always. ok. the main thing I want to make sure to convey is - this is a delusion for you as well. we can play pretend for a while longer, yet we are not forever. you know it too. and thank you for loving me. now do you want to go have a beer?"
maybe
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