Wednesday, December 04, 2013
Text and bodies. For the past four weeks you and I were only ever text and bodies. In terms of hours we have been 'together' in spaces of text more than we have occupied real space. The times we saw each other we hardly ever spoke. Our bodies did more talking. What speech there was was ephemeral, fanciful, flirtatious, dreaming. We reserved the serious talk in text. Last night we broke this pattern. Last night I saw your face, heard your voice, felt your arms around me as you reassured and comforted, as I asked. You recounted looking at my Facebook profile, the public one, as I had unfriended you a second time. It tells me I wasn't the only one futilely searching for you when we, like scared children, imagined we still had a chance to run for the opposite direction. You told me you read a comment on one of my profile pictures, the one of me as a six year old with my little brother and mom. One of my girl friends said something like, even then you were pretty. I replied that no one had ever called me pretty. You said you felt bad for me, for the little girl in me and wanted to call me then. I seem to have given you the impression that I am this helpless, vulnerable woman child. You have never seen me otherwise and I tell you that with you I can let my guard down. I don't have to be the warrior that I usually am. At past midnight I clean up in the toilet as you prepare to leave. I didn't see the note you scribbled on one of my scratch papers on the desk. Like last time, when you wrote verses of poetry, you chose the purple pen. I would see the note after seeing you off. "No need to worry at all" and a goofy smiley face. My heart is full.