You Made Me Love You Do you love me?: You Made Me Love You

By Gee on Thursday, February 2, 2006 - 04:38 pm:

    Why do you come here, when I have nothing to give you? Why do you stay, when there is nothing I can do to bring you comfort? I want so badly just to be able to offer you a seat, but this place is bare and empty. As desperately as I try to start a fire, there is no kindling here and every match I try to light is instantly blown out. Before long I notice that I am the one blowing it out, and I struggle to hold my breath, but always it escapes and destroys any chance we had at warmth.

    I have no snacks to offer you. I havenít had food here in the longest time, and I donít anticipate a delivery any time soon. Iíve been starving, but I try to keep the hunger pains at bay by telling myself I can live without food. And now that youíre here I have nothing to offer you, and I worry that we will starve together.

    The door sits open behind you, and I wait, expecting you to turn and move through it. I never wanted you to come over in the first place, but now that youíre here Iím terrified you will leave too soon. When finally you do move, itís only to close the door. From behind you I reach around and secure the chain. You take off your coat and sit down on the floor, tucking your legs underneath you. You smile up at me and hold out your arms.

    I sit next to you, curl up next to you, not believing for a moment that this is where I really am. The comfort and warmth you offer me are too good to be real, and Iím only waiting to wake up and find itís all been a dream. You sense my disbelief and hold me tightly, ensuring that even if this is a dream, I will not escape so easily. You kiss the top of my head over and over and donít complain when I nibble gently on your chin.

    Somewhere in your pocket is a file that details the number of freckles on my face, and the precise location of the birthmark on my back. Every word that comes out of my mouth is instantly recorded in this file, and added up to find the equation that tells you who I am. Where your skills in math may be lacking, you more than make up for it in the high art of compassion.

    Someday, I say to you, I will have chairs, and cookies, and candles, and I will be able to offer you more than just a bare room with cold walls. Someday I will give you a key to my door and let you come and go as you please. Someday, you answer back, we will work on getting that lock off of the door.

    And you smile so deeply, I cannot help but poke you playfully in your dimples.

By V on Friday, April 21, 2006 - 09:53 pm:

    ...indeed I also read T,S. Eliot.,"Waste and void.Waste and void.And darkness on the face of sleep."...T.S.Eliot,Choruses from "The Rock."

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