Untitled (for now)

(This was inspired by a text conversation with a friend. I have interspersed some of the things shared in our conversation throughout the piece. I consider this a practice in creative writing; taking the inspired words of another person and putting them in a piece that doesn't follow the original conversation, but works beautifully. Still not sure about some of the wording, but I'm quite pleased with it so far.)

I listened to Remain in Light by The Talking Heads for the first time, at the perfect time. So many questions I’m afraid to answer of the time, late at night, a couple beers deep, synchronously during a text conversation with a friend on a similar subject. The music moves in and out; layers of melody and harmony interlaced with layers of rhythm that fit the conflict. Dissonance and chaos, coherence and simplicity.

I watch her. She is simple and complicated, frustrating and easy, carefree and moody, patient and short-tempered, clueless and intelligent. I want to be near her, I want to touch her, to talk to her, to look at her. I notice the curve of her body, the color in her eyes, her face in mischief, and in happiness, and in thought. She watches, brushes against me, smiles, shares, discusses, argues. We are electric, but we are silent. The timing is off, and we both know it, though neither one of us will say it. There is a dichotomy between what is palpable and what is desired, which leaves a gap that is evident but not acknowledged.

There is something beautiful about the silence, something beautiful about leaving the gap unacknowledged. We keep living, interacting, and watching without the vulnerability of making our feelings known by saying. We understand each other by how we act towards one another, how we look at each other. The mystery remains, the excitement intact. Words are futile. Expression through speech often leads to ruin, and we both understand.

And yet satisfaction comes from expression.  At times I wish I could tell her how I think she is beautiful, but I don’t. I am afraid if we acknowledge the gap, the thrill will leave. Maybe we will find out there was nothing there at all, that it was the secrecy holding it all together. The dichotomy works, it is what keeps the desire strong. For this reason, we will say nothing. I will leave, she will leave, we will both go on to find others to love, others willing to courageously acknowledge the void that we won’t, and it will work, and we will forget about each other.

Still, she could have been the love of my life.