We sat facing eachother, with our limbs crossed and folded every which way, words spilling from our mouths, such a tangleweb of thought and dream, mixed in with the smoke from our cigarettes. and looking down at my split palms, you wetted your lips and told me how you were so very lost.

You were different. you Are different. I can speak to you without having to blanket my heart with thick analogies so trite they stretch for miles upon miles. and though your advice never seems to help much, I appreciate the thought that goes into the words you choose to speak to me so gentley. and I try, I try my hardest to disreguard the obvious liking you've taken to me, and brush off the thought of this friendship that I hold so near, to be treaded into wearing the shoes made for something much deeper, filled with actions "just friends" would not allow.

You tell me how you're falling for me, and I remark how there is simply no heart left here to fall for. your finger traces soft circles in my skin, and you tell me that is one of the reason's you're falling. your finger pauses, and I wince.

I never meant to take it so far. was it I who took this too far? did you think that, even if, maybe for just one second, my voice was serious? I can only rest this weary head against your beating ribcage and wonder if I accidently gave you the wrong idea of what you mean to me. (am I giving you the wrong idea, right at this very moment?)

You know how I feel about him. for every night I spilt so much of myself into your ears, about how I would slice all of my insides out if he would only notice me. (and I can only imagine, how after you comforted me and then said goodnight, you took your fists home to rip out your own stomach.)

But my hands, these hands are tied so tightly with this binding rope, and it's cutting off the internals I seem to depend upon so much. if I could cut through them, and break what holds this... I would, surely. but you see, my darling, there is nothing I can do but wait. nothing else I can do but sit here and wait for the ropes to fray with time. and possibly, if the wounds enclosing my wrists heal up, and I find myself breathing freely again, there might be a chance for something more. but until then, he will break my heart, and I, yours. and we will long for eachother like a mother longs for the corpse of her child that slept silent, and much too soundly in her tight womb.

I close my cracked hand around yours, and squeeze our fingers and lines into one big intertwined mess. "we're all just brutal creatures. brutal creatures made to hurt one another, and we do, we will.", I tell you.

You nod, and pull apart from me.

06/28/2004

Author's Note: [For Bela.]

Posted on 06/28/2004
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