Time Doesn't Fly When You're Standing Still

It's been about five years now since I've seen you. Five years since we've talked face to face. We used to talk so much that I would be able to stave off your raunchy jokes even before you'd say them. We were that pair that could finish each others' sentences, only we never did.

It's been five years now though. Five years. And yet I can remember every conversation. I can remember every promise, every thing we used to do together. My CDs, some of them, remind me of you because we listened to them together. Some of them I even bought to impress you. It must be five years on if I can admit that now.

You announced today that you are engaged, and I saw it in a post online. A saccharine story that I knew I would see just by seeing the subject of the post. I didn't want to keep reading on, but I had to somehow. I had to offer my congratulations. It's what a good friend does. I wonder if you will think about my sincerity when you see my comment back. I did the best I could though under the circumstances, and after all, you probably wouldn't give it a second's thought anyway. I commented with my happiness for you and cried for the rest of that day, almost non-stop.

Head Fake

You knocked on my door. I said come in and was surprised to see you. I was even more surprised when you closed the door.

You sat on my couch, folding your hands and leaning forward. Your face was serious. Even concerned. I thought perhaps you were going to ask me for my forgiveness. I thought of all of the ways I would give it, could give it. It would mean so much.

You said you had a question to ask me, and I didn't have to answer right away. I played it off light and said go ahead, and I said thank you for your permission. I played it light-hearted as my heart heavy-thumped.

You asked me if I was friends with this girl. You knew I was. We were good friends, in fact. I said yes, and why?

You asked me if there was a way to help you get a date with her. You liked her a lot, you said. I wondered if this was some kind of test. I wondered, if I said yes, if you would say, "Congratulations. You have proven your love." I wondered, if I said no, if you would disappear.

I said sure and still pretended to be light-hearted, though my heart was in my shoes.

Today I saw a post from you online announcing your engagement to that same girl. I wonder if I'll be invited to join the bridal party, or if I'll be able to stay silent when the call goes out for objections.

A Dinner Conversation

I am going to be leaving soon. You do not seem too keenly aware of this fact. You in fact have been treating me worse than you did before. Anyway, it seems so, though I can't recall a time when you were ever really nice.

I made it easy for you today to be nice, even jokingly, even mockingly. I said, "You will be sorry when I am gone. You'll see." And you said, "I'll just replace you with someone else. No biggie."

I proceeded with eating my food, chewing each bite very slowly. The chicken tasted particularly bland and dry, I remember.

Tree of Birds

I saw a tree today, and at the tip of nearly every branch, there was a bird sitting and singing where leaves would normally be. The illusion created something quite normal looking, but the reality this time was a bit more unexpected.

So it is with you, I guess. From far away, we may seem like a couple, for all of the time we spend together, all of the time we keep each other company. Upon closer inspection, people would see that there is only implied good feeling where good feeling would normally reside. People would see, if they looked closely, that there was movement where things should be still, and singing when all should be quiet. People would realize, upon pondering what was before them, that everything they were seeing was backwards, a dyslexic's gander upon the world. Like the birds that I saw on the tree today, the image of love would fade away, and the thoughful would be left with a tree that bore neither birds nor leaves but just empty branches still coping with remnants of winter's chill.

A word is worth a thousand thoughts

I won't admit to how much time it takes me to decide what to do when I see you have posted something. Should I respond or ignore? If I respond, how shall I? It's my only basis of communication with you so it carries more weight. Do I respond with kindness in the hopes you will remember how much I helped you in the past? Do I respond with a biting remark to signal my displeasure? Do I pose a question in response, enticing you to answer back, or do I post something beyond clever? It's hard to be clever when the post is about the weather though. It takes me a long time to decide what to do when you post something, I'll say that. I would try to just comment back as myself, as I would with any other person, but I already tried to be myself when we knew each other in real life, and you see where it has gotten me. I respond with a monosyllabic word and with no small amount of self-loathing. "Hah!" I say. And it's in response to me more than it is to you.

A fish on baited breath

I know I shouldn't like you still. If I were thinking rationally about the whole thing, I would have stopped talking to you ages ago, not to mention stopped thinking about you. I would look back and see that the crumbs you threw me never did come together to make a hearty piece of bread. My mind, if I was rational these days, would be reverberating with your words of mockery.

Instead, I remember that you said "I love you" after one particularly gruesome grilling. You said it as I started to walk away from you. Like a fish that can't resist the bait, I find myself smiling at you again, smiling at the memory, at that little triumph.

If I was rational, I would know that the hook does not come far behind the fattened worm, but I am not rational these days. I keep letting you reel me in over and over, and just when it seems like I've gasped the last bit of goodness I can get from our little situation, you say something like "I love you," and I dive back into the water to be fooled again.

Instant Message Me Some Cutlery

If we had been talking in person, I don't think you would have said what you said. But you were in front of your computer and I was in front of mine, so you were more courageous. You knew, or perhaps didn't even think about it, but you would not be able to see my eyes or my face when those words flew. "The way you act kills all chance of affection," is what you said. You said I was too caring, too close. I thought to myself, but did not type, that I only respond to those around me. Is it being motherly to let you eat my cheese when you come in and go straight to my refrigerator?

I let the cursor on my screen blink for awhile. I see no indication that you are typing. There is no immediate, "I didn't mean to say it that way." If we had been talking face to face, I don't think you would have said it at all. You would have just gone to my refrigerator and gotten some cheese and crackers, sat down at my computer, and started playing my computer games like you always do. And I would have been content, thinking that this must be what it is like to be a couple.

Sure, Fine, Good

You might ask why I am smiling so broadly. I won't go into much detail. You have enough ammunition to use against me anyway, in case this all blows up and out into nothing as so many other things have. But I will tell you this. He smiled at me today and walked over to where I was sitting, and he sat down in a chair that could most definitely be defined as next to the chair I was sitting in. He asked how I was in that nonchalant way of his and I answered monosyllabically, fearing that anything more would reveal the blubbering I wanted to do instead. He asked if I wanted to meet up with him for dinner and I said sure, as if he had asked me if the sky was normally blue on Spring days. Five o'clock? Sure. He must have thought I had gone dumb. I did not utter anything, as it happened, that was more than a syllable.

It is 2:00 now and I think I am handling things pretty well. I have not done any of the things it has occurred to me to do. I have not, for example, run around the entire world at top speed, my arms outstretched like the wings of the butterflies fluttering in my stomach, whooping and hollering and jeering at those who will not be meeting up with him for dinner. No, I have not done that at all. Then again, I have three hours and I think I could get pretty far if I started now.

Peacock Invisible

I guess you think, probably, that everyone, including me, keeps track of what you do on a daily basis to help yourself look your best. Or what you consider to be your best, at any rate. Well, no one notices, I hate to tell you. Least of all me. For example, you probably thought that your new way of combing your hair that you started last Wednesday would make all of the girls stop dead in their tracks. Well, I barely even noticed. And I can just imagine you checking yourself out in that new jacket I saw you in over the weekend. You probably thought that it made you look kind of tough and mysterious yet also really very smashing in appearance. Well, it barely even crossed my mind that you had a new jacket. I don't keep track of such minute details, even with myself. Your big plan failed, at least with me.

No, I can't say I really keep track of how you look on a daily or even a weekly basis. I have some vague idea that you exist, and I know somewhat where you tend to be at what times. Our class schedules are alike I guess. But if you think I notice all of those little things you do, like the new watch I saw you wearing or that new pair of shoes I saw yesterday, I'm just sorry to disappoint you. I don't give any of that a second's thought. I don't even know why I brought it up.

Story One: A Flower's Life Cycle

Because this is the first one, let me explain how this will work. I'm going to tell you a whole story, but it's going to be through poems, and it's going to be one a day until the story is done. So this first story, as you see, is called A Flower's Life Cycle, and now we are ready to begin :)



Cloudy Clarity

I remember when I realized I liked you. It was not a moment of giggling or pointing. I remember I was making plans with some friends, and I glanced at my computer. I saw that you had posted something about going to a dance or a club or something like that, and I told my friends I was thinking about doing that. They looked at me with astonishment. I never wanted to do things like that. Still, they thought it would be nice to do something different, so we agreed to meet up there.

I realized I liked you through the care I took to get ready to surprisingly bump into you quite intentionally. I showered and combed my hair and tried five different hairstyles, trying to determine which would look the most un-deliberate yet undeniably flirtatious. I realized I liked you because I tried on three different shirts with two different pants and 2 different skirts. I realized I liked you because the jewelry I chose to wear was very similar to jewelry I had seen your girlfriend wear. In fact, I think I bought it when I was out shopping with her.

Most of all, though, I realized I liked you when my friends and I got to the club or the dance or wherever it was, I can’t remember now, and I didn’t see you anywhere, and I felt a little bit like crying. I liked you then and I knew it. And I never wore that jewelry that was like your girlfriend’s ever again.