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06.01.02 - 1:30 p.m. i guess, really, that there isnt much to say about it. I walked behind myself to his house and stepped back a little as i knocked and hesitated outside the door as i walked past his smile and his arms, inside. There was a 60 watt bulb in the back of my head that illuminated the similarities between this time and the last, that flashed on and off, and i walked and walked and walked towards it and sat in the room. In his arms under a familiar blanket, my arms crossed against my chest, against his, phish's snorning head on my ankle and the hot silence of all the things that we werent saying. "What are you thinking right now, tell me immediately." "No Way." "Why Not?" "Because youre thinking the same thing and you know it." "Then say it." "No." "Fine. I think its a bad idea." "Why?" Well, of course, abby and wendy and all the other things that i dont really care about but mention anyway. This need inside me to have him like me more. "Well, it all depends on what youre looking for. Are you looking for love or are you looking for fun?" He tried to kiss me and i ducked my chin into my chest, twice, three times. I needed a council. Things on fire and windy inside my brain. 22 years of thinking that your mouth on someone elses means something huge and irreperable, unforgetable, and whether or not i still believed that, whether or not its true, whether or not i wanted to kiss someone who didnt believe that. I wanted to ask him about it, decided against it, i needed 10 seconds to think, to decide again whether or not, whether or not whether or not, and then, i got tired of thinking, id been thinking and thinking and thinking for months and i needed a break. I put myself on a shelf and kept my mouth to myself. Its not really my mouth he's looking for anyway. Then, hands in hands and clothes making a sweatpant, oxford button down path through the den, kitchen, bathroom. And it always amazes me how dark his room can get, and its raining, and there is work still and the fact that i dont know how to tie a tie and everything that sits on me, pushing my breath out. I wanted to be gone and i knew he'd take me, only it wasnt easy like that. I wasnt there. And i never let him find me, but he wouldnt let me go. He searched, for my eyes, with his but i watched his closet and the rain on his window and the top of his head. He'd look for me and stop, saying my name, demanding, like you would say to a child who isnt listening, a one syllable breath i felt on my chin. Whats wrong? And i thought about telling him, but there was everything to tell, and i dont trust him. Why wont you look at me? Before, i never took my eyes off of him, and i watched his back, twice, leaving, and i watched for him and i waited, and i wont do that again. I turned my body over and kept my face for myself. My eyes, away, and mind, emptying. The second after was as always, his personality rushing in and dressing him in the man i typically avoid. I threw my legs over the bed and into my jeans into bras and leaving him to find the shirt i wore in, lifting one sleepy paw from a black sock and leaving it when i couldnt find the other. The door shutting firm behind me, ny footsteps underneath me, the heat of noon against my neck, behind me knees, and the rest of my day in front of me, still � 
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