Wednesday, January 19, 2011

so until we meet again, i suppose we're just friends

my arm tucked tightly in the crook of your elbow, my hand wrapped up around your arm. i feel tall walking next to you, as though i'm a match for you tonight, even though you tower a head over me. you squeeze me closer to you as you walk me to my car - in step, in silence.

it's drizzling but not enough to notice, not enough to get wet.

when we get to the car, we hold onto each other as though we are the last things we will ever hold. it's not urgent, it's not binding, it's not gripping. it's not fraught with need, only with want - newly realized want. this is what holding should be. we envelop each other equally; my face buried in your chest, your face buried in my hair.
after a long while, we look at each other, smile and say "hi", seeing one another through a new pair of eyes. six years of curiosity, wonder, unspoken and undefinable feelings and inexplicable kinship come to a head as lips meet. tentatively at first, neither truly expecting to find that they are magnets willing themselves together; spinning around each other's surface trying to find the most sticky spot, only to find that they are all sticky in vastly different ways. furtive exploration of mouths and cheeks and tongues and chins ensues: wordlessly, breathlessly.
you pull away abruptly, sighing forcefully, saying "we shouldn't have done that." i stumble over the usual words - the wrong words - for what feels like hours when, in the heat of the moment, you exclaim - proclaim - that my wrong words are right for you, my wrong words are what you want.
confirmation that the heat of the moment is the truest of moments.
it was so unexpected that i didn't ask for clarification. i didn't ask the questions that later popped into my head, into my "right" mind. that was probably for the best.
i rest my forehead on your chest, neither of us want to let go, nor do we know how to proceed. we catch our breath and look at each other again, navigating eyes and faces to find out where we are, forgetting the magnets that live in our lips as they meet again - the only natural course, the only natural response. we give in and let them guide us, pausing for breath but no more words.

your pocket buzzes: the herald reminding us that time continues on and ours is coming to a close. our lips meet again in what we silently tell each other is a farewell kiss, foolishly thinking we have a modicum of control where out mouths are concerned. when they've had their momentary fill, we breathe and unexpected words of intimacy and consolation spill forth from the unknown: whispered softly, heard loudly.
we kiss once more - this time, more in control of our faculties - and say good bye with admonishments to take care of ourselves: take care of ourselves in exactly the way we know we can't right now.
we detach our bodies
gripping arms
sliding down to hands
as we back away from each other, not wanting to break the connection.

it's only after you're standing on the sidewalk and i've opened the car door do i realize that it's raining. really raining. and it has been the whole time, evidenced only by my hand plastering my hair to my face as i try to pry my mind from the fog.


this is a first time. this is a moment in time. perhaps it will be another year - another six years - before it happens again for the second time. but now i finally know what all those fairy tale kisses are about: those princesses are being awakened from an old habit, an old notion, an old feeling and seeing the world with new eyes - no more terrible vision. there is an energy within now; not nervous or anxious or scared, but an energy that requires attention: a whirlwind in the heart that finally started spinning the right way.