i used to love watching you at parties. you were so insecure, they had no idea. and the ways in which you masked it were so endearing. at the time. to them you were open. humble. selfless. the more you focused on them, the better they felt around you. who doesn't want to feel good? such kind and gentle manipulation. and oh how i understood. in those days, we belonged to each other. losing you to them without losing you felt solid enough to be voyeuristic. your conquests were mine. my strides were yours. where your arm extended lay my sleeping face, dreaming about my conquests and your strides. i took it all in sips of forever, thinking i finally understood some bite-size piece of loving. like yet another language decoding. but now i wonder if love is anything i've ever known. how many textures liquids moments letters tears songs scents games kisses storms mirrors. how much rage silence bliss anger truth. amounting to what...wisdom in solitude...restlessness...discontent. let me count the ways.

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