Looking Back At You
So another birthday gone and another year passed. Mingling again with your friends that night was a treat.Through the candle-light, I watched as you moved among the crowd. People, friends of yours, keep showing up at the door in an ever growing crowd who bring you joy just to see them again. Watching you greet them with hugs, kisses and pleasantries, your knack for making friends and making them feel at home are qualities that I like about you.
It has been a year and a half since we first met. Since then, we've been to many places and done some pretty amazing stuff together. We know each other's moods, likes and dislikes. You see my aspirations just as I hear you talk passionately about yours. In our long conversations together, we complain about this, bitch about that and opinionate on the other. No topic is off limits and nothing is taboo.
I watch you go about your day with the ease and confidence of someone in her element. Self assured in your stride, you never fail to turn heads even though your smile is only for me. Your inquisitive mind and sense of adventure makes you interesting to be with. You are unpretentious and matter-of-fact. When you ask 'why is this?', the straight answer I give is all that's needed.
People tell us that we look handsome together. My friends ask about you. They ask to meet you. But I never promise them anything. It's better this way, I think. You drop hints about how you feel about me and where you'd want for us to be. To your surprise, I don't respond the way you think that I should. You wonder perhaps that you're being too subtle. But I never show that I get the message.
You tell me about the men you meet. I listen in amusement as you recount how, one by one, they fail so miserably. Most of them can't even look beyond the immediate, let alone over the month. Interestingly too though, for those who have some sort of plan, don't figure a place for you in them.
So I sit here watching as you mingle with your friends. They shower you with attention on this happiest of days. I tell you that you look fabulous and that your smile is a happy one. You tell me that you're content. But when the moment of truth arrives, induced by that all-saying truth serum called alcohol, I change the subject before you have the chance to tell me what's on your mind. In the moment of distraction, you don't get to finish what you had wanted to say. I don't let you.
I see the disappointment in your eyes. You look at me and wonder why, of all that you have in abundance, the one thing that you will never have. You see me looking back at you and that cigarette in your hand.
posted by Teutoburg @ 2:18 AM
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