indeed

I want it all to be nothing, I can feel the ground under me trembling, I keep on trying not to admit it. I can pretend, it's easy, I am getting better at pretending, but there it was again, that palpability, that crackle.

His eyes sought me out, and in them I could see his joy, his gladness, his pleasure at my company and instead of reflecting that back, I looked away, looked down, hid my joy.

I don't want it all to be nothing, so I will fervently pretend it is until there's no more room for denials. Thankfully we are light years apart; the fabric of time has a firm grip on each of us and it is difficult to shake loose. It will take a long time to find each other in the same room again, and then I fear I won't be able to resist him.

His hands couldn't stay away from me, those fingertips that had produced such beautiful music were trying to coax vibrations from mine and where there have been walls was just air, he is one of the rare men that propel the best of me into the light; I was witty and beautiful, smart and graceful, radiant and delightful. And even though the timer had long gone off ("He finishes his set at 10, I'll say hello, chit chat and leave by 10:30," I insisted to Walter); I was snared in his orbit and didn't want to leave it anyway.

So I stayed.

And I let myself believe that maybe the crackle, the vibrations, the magic he waved in front of me might be real.

And then I woke up and remembered that there is nothing that anyone can do to please me. Especially them. So it is with great relish that I thrashed through the night with a machete and tore up the love letters we will never write and deposited that dream back into the deepest recesses of my brain.

It's not time yet.