Thursday, September 27, 2007

Wow. You Really Deleted My Number.

It was more than a question or a statement. A fact really.
I'd sunken to this low on his book. Or by some force of nature
he had fallen for me. Or this was my imagination's way of helping
me feel important again?

Crumpled ego. Melted.
Time sent a message.
Crisply folded, not yet wrinkled.

If only I knew this was how it was going to go down, would I have
neglected the tender innocent kisses of the curious? Random lust.
Nahh..the memory, cemented as it is in time, is worth every penny.
I wouldn't trade that moment for what it's worth. No Regrets; perhaps
questions, perhaps quizzical looks, but never regret.

Betrayal lives on to the noble. We can only stand still as if change can't
change me. As if whispered promises could be kept. Somehow, I stand alone
in my moral compass.

I thought it was for fun. He meant it for keeps. Which is partially why
I think he disappeared. As if his disappearance, could erase that video tape
in a dark and sullied casino. As if, by avoidance, the attraction,in the spa,
was fantasy, and reality is muddled under kamikaze clarity. Well, I refuse to forget.
So that's what I'll remember as I grasp remnant thoughts at 84, in some lucid minute
or two, and although, they'll argue it's just crazy, I'll know it was real. As real
as a kiss can get.

Some mingle kisses and love into the same story. Ours wasn't written that way. I told
you from the beginning. I promised. I kept my promise. It was a real kiss, but love never touched that one. I promised you sting less kissing, blessed kissing, but the kind that soul searches and finds nothing. Did you hand Cupid a note one night when I fumed within at how unright you were? Were you convincing yourself of a lie? I meant no pain; foolish as that may seem now, but a kiss is a kiss. No more, no less.

Now mind you a kiss was wow. But a kiss doesn't lead anywhere but "sittin' in a tree"
until you say it does. I told the kiss to stay put; and mine did.

1 Comments:

Anonymous grumble said...

poignant indeed! it would be hard n(or impossible) to pick up a house,
yet a child could move the bricks,
by degrees. that's the way romance goes, dear jTLC. good to see you back!

10/03/2007 2:36 PM  

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