Thrice (Interlude)
Originally Uploaded here by Rune T
It always happens in threes.
As time passes, we move together, like a subtle weaving dance of little strands of wool into a mitten - or perhaps toque - with an emerging pattern on the side. I can't actually see whether or the pattern is false, a trick of the light or an expectation of synchronicity where there is nothing but deft steps of self-deception. It's nice though, nice enough that I ignore the two other dances, no matter how much they do or do not pull at me.
You pull, though not by your actions, but perhaps by your eyes or your subtle geometry. I suppose there is a subtleness of action here as well, and I hunger for it, like blood on a leaf when hungry, hot with the promise of iron or mythic persistence. I want you, though not in the way that that phrase conjures, if - in the very least - not primarily. I want your smiles and soft exchanges of affection, made dense and heavy through meaning and value. I could dance without moving with you underneath street lights, in the spaces between the paragraphs of our life stories.
You don't, but you do. I can practically smell your promises, and I shrink from them. And not out of similar fears but out of the fatality of possibility it might represent. There are some rules of hospitality and hearts tread lightly upon that concern me, but not that much. Perhaps I worry too much.
But other things matter more now, so this gets filed into a hard drive late at night when I'm fanciful about these things.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Tunng (MySpace link)