|
To that guy that won't disappear
Why can't I talk to you? I talk my ear off to anyone who will sit still enough to listen. Factoids, opinions, dark secret parts of my heart that I fan out for all to see. I think over-sharing must be a defense mechanism of some sort for me. But I can't do that with you. I find myself tongue-tied and awkward and my voice sounds unnatural, grating on my ears. I feel like I give myself away, time and again, but I still hold to the rules of the engagement. I keep up pretenses. My thoughts turning turning ever more inward. Convoluted. Messy. Where heart and mind and loins all scream what they want--a cacophony. Did you know that when I see you, I feel a heat licking at my belly. And I feel tendrils of that heat waft up to color my exposed neck, my ears, my eyes. And more tendrils slink lower, below my waist, making me hold my breath as they tickle me inside out, make me shudder and uncontrolled. And that is just when I see you across the room, all dark eyes and half . You never give me any hint of returning this most...annoying affliction of mine. Around you I am weak and stupid and that anything I could do would turn disastrously. But I am also exhilarated and and near the edges of things. Edges are good places to be. My mind working at a desperate to absorb everything. No one else pushes me, punishes me. I feel like I am in a game with you. It might go on for years this subtle, silent game. Where every word, every touch of eyes can be construed ten different ways. I love my SO. He is my greatest supporter, arms wrapped to hold me when I need a shoulder. I talk to him about you. That right there should tell you that somehow he wormed in and became my best friend too. But you? A magnet, a great raging fire, a dog's master. I am pulled to you, intrigued, I want to discover...to play. And playing with you? Dangerous, stupid. But nonetheless. You are my fantasy. I could be crazy, those looks meaningless, that brush of skin against mine coincidence. But as soon as I start down that , my mind balks. I cannot the fantasy. You derive me hours and hours of pleasure and fun and twisted mind , that could be, for all I know, only in my mind. Why would I that off? So every time I see you, it is with trepidation. Will the game be ended? The silence that so much can be read into, will that disappear into platitudes and politicking? Will the traveller travel somewhere new and ne'er return? Is this tense game something you can see and not only that but something that you foster, and now you decide to bring it to another level? You make me pant like a thirsty animal, whining for it. Weak. Gods below it turns me on. You drive me crazy! In every connotation of that word too. Kiss you, hit you--you enflame my passions, whichever direction they are going. Which is interesting, because passion and love are both fighting words and oft used together. But as much as I can be sure of anything, I can tell you I am sure that I do not love you. I could be fall in love with you probably. But love comes after understanding and compassion. And while I may have compassion for you, maybe, I definitely do not understand you. I mean, I think I understand a lot of you. Motivations, fears, humors, those are easy to read in people. But talking. We don't do the talking bit. Old and hard secrets are doors to understanding I suppose. And maybe that will have to suffice. I am writing this letter to you. You, of course, will probably never see it. My best friend will. Maybe my boyfriend.
|
Harris Teeter m4w
I saw you shopping for groceries in the Harris Teeter this past weekend. You are petite with long black hair that you had pinned up. I didn't see a ring, but I'm not sure. You stopped at the table where a man was giving out wine samples and I was standing there. I said "the Pinot is really very good". If you see this tell me which wine you said you'd try. I know this is a shot in the dark. As soon as I drove away I knew I should have asked your name and talked with you. I came back to the store about divorced women looking hot fucking Oxnard 15 mins later and thought I saw you driving away in a BMW...it might not have been you. If you see this, I'd love to buy you a glass of wine and get to know you. 
