2008-05-15
'house of cards'
your words are scribbled on a curled piece of paper- it's on your desk and i catch glimpses of my name on it. once you have a hyphen as it spills over the edge of the sheet: li-sa. it seems like a weird name to split up.
"I don't wanna be your friend, I just wanna be your lover," radiohead croons from the laptop. I could unfurl the note. I slowly move my neck, turning my chin past my shoulder to see if you're watching. you're not- you're laying down and placidly gazing at the ceiling. you seem at ease. you always are. i should be too.
i want knowledge of you. i want to know you really well, like earning the pieces and advancing is a profound game. figure out your tendencies, make predictions and inferences, cater to them, evade them with apt discretion- it is an art, a strategy. it is its own reward, to know someone that well and get fulfillment from a thoughtful and care-ful relationship involving the active, considerate engagement of understanding someone.
but you would tell me not to think, but to simply do and be. sure that's sound advice. but i don't know if it will stop me from seeking the knowledge of you.
i come beside you, and you switch your gaze from the ceiling to me. i think you're seeking knowledge too, perhaps not as explicitly, but we all are. i'd like to think i let you learn, i'd like to think i let you in.
the song's over and your arm holds me. i glance at the desk, at your words stretched out across the sheet. i won't read it, i'll try to read you instead. you on the other hand don't seem to be analyzing or comprehending me. maybe i'm a portrait instead of a novel.
i take a deep breath, you move slowly, close the book, take the painting off the wall.
leesah-likes at 8:55 p.m.