One Emotion

Sometimes, a picture is worth a thousand words. Another space: One Emotion, check it out.

May 02, 2004

The girl with the other tune*

She stares at me. I have seen this face this near before, even nearer. I have known these reminiscing eyes. I have felt the warm breath coming thru her lips. I have smelled that mesmerizing perfume over my sweaty hands, over and over again. I have felt the lovely curves on the bottom of her back. I recall all that she was, all that she could have been, all that she isn’t, all she just couldn’t be, but, for a moment, I am what I so gladly were: happy. She’s sitting next to me, talking to me, trying to “connect” via some sort of casual inopportune conversation. I’m listening. I really don’t care what’s she saying, neither does she.

The keyword is “connection”. A simple basic connection is all I need, the kind that makes a mere look tell the story of her day, the kind that tells you when to kiss, the kind that makes a kiss stop for some air or just drive you both into utter sweet suffocation. Underneath all that is an obscure delicate communication.

The keyword is “communication”. Relationships are about communication. Communication is tricky. Relationships are trickier. Realizing that, how and why they are is the trickiest.

I thought we had that simple connection. Maybe she thought that too. At the start, what we had was pure bliss, “Oh! The sweet melody!”. “Too good to be true”, yes. Everything broke down so suddenly, so abruptly: One day, we just looked at each other and lost each other, no reason, no cause. And then, old excuses turn into lies, sweet feelings into illusion, “she has me” into “she used me”, love into hate and, slowly, hate into disinterest. After a while, in brief lapses of lucidity, you know all that she really was and wasn’t, why she did all that, why she didn’t, why she said all that and all that you, together, ever were. The melody doesn’t rime no more.

Yet, she is gazing at me like she ever so did before, ever so truthfully sweet. Why? I don’t really care. I take her hand. Our breaths halt, as if held by the load of our same memories. We move closer. Maybe we really are closer now…

* Title inspired by “The Girl in the other room” by Diana Krall

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