Brows Bent to the Question

Posted: June 25, 2014 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

I’ve been chasing the words I need to approach something I’ve been thinking about — the feeling that comes when you really look into the eyes of someone you care about and who reciprocates. That kind of thing’s a vague memory now, so what follows is something I wrote in December 2009, back when more positive memories of love were fresher.

No, he never did see me the same way I saw him. And it’s a shame. Yet, tonight I think there was still a singular, fragile beauty in bending my brow to the question. Even though the answer was not what I wanted.

* * *

There are large blurs of memory, especially as we travel further back in recollection. But, there are specific kisses I remember… the first, and the way you held me with a gentleness I knew you possessed but was still surprised to feel, or the one outside by the car that sent little bolts of electricity down my arms. If it were possible to mind-meld, I would show you that electricity, show you the complexities of emotion over the course of this thing with you and me, at ebb tide and when waves slash, violent, at the shore.

But then, I am often guilty of showing my hand too early, which doesn’t really matter, I suppose — you read my tells. Still, I am probably more eager to bet everything and lose if it means not playing a game. I’m too serious just to play for playing’s sake.

I know you dig your autonomy; it’s important to me, too. But, you know me: still thinking that it’s possible to be fully yourself and fully with someone else, if you’ve got the right someone… and probably the right atmospheric conditions. (Nothing for it, if the barometer disagrees.) Although, it takes something beyond oxygen to get there. The honesty we have seems a pretty good start. Yet, for all of it, those now-and-again times when you tell me what I mean to you, I still don’t really know. Because you’re not sure, and that’s okay. This lack of clarity belongs to the both of us, and there’s a singular, fragile beauty in bending our brows to the question.

I guess all I’m saying is that,

for all your brazenness,

for all your logic,

for all your bad habits,

all your bad days,

for all the ways you hide your face,

all the things your eyes disguise,

I see you. I see you in a way that, if you saw me the same, we would be nigh inseparable. Not clingy, not like a couple puppy-dog-eyed kids addicted to one another — after all, we both need our aloneness — but more like Sondheim put it: “You always are what you always were, which has nothing to do with, all to do with her.”

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