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skinny love

Fantasies have not often been my friend.

Like this afternoon, when he went missing again and I found this Rilo Kiley song in the mix. Though it's more likely that it's something I downloaded and forgot about, it's just as likely it was from her. I suppose it was a long time back, and doesn't matter now but I have read the lyrics several times now and wonder how much of it is true.

Another walk alone with the baby, another Saturday spent with no discourse between us and just two days ago making love in the afternoon - I don't understand this love affair. Or why I feel so raw for the most of it. Or why I feel at the edge of a cliff, exposed and able to be pushed off at any moment by the smallest of things.

Or how it can be possible to finally commit myself to it wholly while still protecting my inner core from the destruction of over-dependence.

I don't even remember what I look like.

Before, it was me doing all of the running away. Starlit nights having fantasies about somebody else or another house or another hairdo. Sleeping all day, or painting all day or simply avoiding the truth of my dissatisfaction.

Here, I am too tired to even think about anybody else - and the sexiest prospect is an afternoon alone with my paint. And maybe black hair again or a new dress. Or an empty house, I decorate in my own way and fill with incense and pillows like before. One that I can come home to, the way that I left it.

It seems in this new place, that my car is perpetually idling, whispering to me from just over the sidewalk to jump in and drive away -

Earlier, sitting still in the orange light of a Fall afternoon listening to the regular people sweeping their leaves, I ask myself if I want to put all that energy into building a new life or into building up this one.

I still don't know -

I am on a search for my Selkie skin.

5:56 p.m. - 2007-11-03
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