Una Confesión

Pages left untouched for so long. An arsenal of words unused. Let’s see what my mind gives me, this hour of the night:

Me encanta estas noches cuando estudiamos en las horas tardes en el silencio que llena todo el espacio del cuarto. Pienso que a veces, puedo sentir un poco conexión entre nosotros, durante un parte de la noche cuando estamos cansados y locos. Pero también tengo miedo. Tengo mucho medio. Porque en los momentos cuando nosotros estamos mentalmente lejos, tengo miedo que éstos momentos nos separan a una distancia que no puede desaparecer. No quiero perderte. Y por eso tuve, y ya tengo, miedo del viaje a E—. No quiero crear una distancia sobre el mar, una distancia sobre que no podemos acercarse. Quiero proteger mi corazón y mi mente. Pero por al mismo, tengo fe en ti, creo que no vas a dejarme.
Dígame. Me prometes que no me dejas cuando iré a E—.
Por favor y gracias.

(Que interesante)

Promise and Salvation

The smoothness of my skin today covers over the lines of yesteryears, a reminder of where I've come from and where I hope to never return to. I promised you I wouldn't again, and you know how I hold to my promises. 
So I promise you now: 
When that old urge rises up and my fingers itch for fine tipped pens and silver hairpins, I will come find you. I will let you soften the sharp edges of my turmoil and melt together my broken fragments with your words and your touch and your kisses. I promise to not hide under downy bedding or fancy words or my inability to trust and believe. I promise to talk because I know you will listen. I promise to seek some form of salvation from a twisted past that spans generations. I promise to try.

This Time Of Day

I LIKE THIS TIME OF DAY WHEN THE SKY IS A DARK AND DUSTY CORNFLOWER BLUE, WHEN THE SETTLING NIGHT BREATHES A BUBBLE OF SAFE SERENITY OVER EVERYTHING, TUCKING ALL MY FEARS AND WORRIES TO SLEEP. I LIKE THAT YOU ARE FADING INTO A DARK SILHOUETTE AGAINST THE TWILIT SKY; IT MAKES THE SHARP ANGLES OF YOUR FACE SO MUCH CLEARER.

TEACH ME ABOUT CLARITY, ABOUT HOW IT’S OK TO SAY THINGS FORTHRIGHT, ABOUT HOW SUBTLETY IS OVERRATED. AND THEN TEACH ME ABOUT BLURRING LINES, LIKE THOSE THAT DIVIDE WHAT IS AND ISN’T APPROPRIATE IN A PUBLIC SPACE, THE LINES THAT MARK UP THE PAGES ATOP MY PIANO. TEACH ME TO BLUR THE LINE THAT DIVIDES THE SPACE BETWEEN OUR BODIES.

NIGHT FALLS, THINGS SHARPEN AND BLUR SIMULTANEOUSLY. I STAND WITH THEM ON THE EDGE OF TIME, STRADDLING THE DIVISION BETWEEN A WORLD OF CHAOTIC STRESSES AND THIS CALMNESS THAT HAS SETTLED. SETTLED OVER ME.

Memory Loss

I tell you my secrets because I know you'll forget them anyway. They're safe in your perfect memory loss.

Here you are, someone who won't press, won't pry, won't ask, won't notice. Not until I make it so. And in those moments of telling, hold me and and hush me and kiss me. Whisper sweet words that peel themselves from the dusty pages of books left years untouched on your bookshelf, words plagiarized from movies and literature and social dictations, words that fit against mine like bodies in dance. In a frat party dance, thrown together into a strangely concordant closeness.
Part of me wants it to be the close contact position of a slow waltz danced barefoot under moonlight. Not two bodies moving with each other, but two bodies moving merged as one. But the moon is bright, the beams coaxing out every word of my soul and capturing them like dusty spirals of betrayal, drawing forth from the pale white vapor of my whispers so many words I dared not say out loud for so long. Secrets are not meant to live as silvery pieces of evidences.

So I tell you my secrets within the confines of a chaotic darkness, lit by blacklight and artificial colors so caught up in the excitement they embody that they don't have the time or patience to capture and secure my words. Move your hips with mine and I'll tell you another sentence. Rest your head on my shoulder, and I'll give you another. Wrap an arm around my waist and I'll tell you words of a species so rare they're critically endangered. I can almost see the words dance with our bodies in the flashing light, moving through your head and out like the pounding beats that surround us.

I'm satisfied with someone to listen, for now, but let me know when you're ready to listen. Until then, keep my secrets for me in the perfect safety of your memory loss.