Post by aiwin on Jan 24, 2009 22:33:38 GMT -5
We used to be so much better than this.
I remember when the air was clear, when the sun shone through the window of our room.
This room, the one that only belongs to us.
Since the moment I saw her, bathed in white light upon the stage, walls started building around us. At first, they were our sanctuary. We were dancers, each of us, and in a world where eyes of strangers never left our bodies, the only hope for escape was in our own mind...or with someone else.
We used each other to hide from everything around us. Even our own dreams.
But our room, with heavy walls to block out the world, still lacked something essential, and I found it the night I danced with her.
She was moving slowly, on her own, in the darkened practice room. I couldn't hear music playing, but in the way she swayed and turned so elegantly, I felt that I could hear her. Her feet curled and supported her as they would in ballet, but her body was loose and moved almost unpredictably, wildly. From the damp, dark brown strands of hair in front of her eyes to the small layer of sweat gathering on every inch of her gliding body, I saw in that moment the endless extent of her beauty.
She showed no surprise when I, the entranced, placed myself before her back and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She just kept moving, allowing me to join her, complement her, merge with her in any way possible. This dance spoke beyond words. There was no plan or order. We simply moved to the beat of each other.
That night, in the entanglement of limbs, our room gained a window, letting the sunlight in.
If only we had been so aware when the light created fire.
The little things, above all else, would be our downfall. The way I laugh, how she always finds something wrong, broken china, a dent in the wall, and a sneeze, even, could add fuel to the flame. She never realized, but I saw it growing. I watched almost helplessly as every wrong move we ever made tore at our escape. We, the creators, were killing the only haven we had ever known. And, although she didn't see it, she was fighting back.
But fighting, apparently, was the last thing we needed.
I sit warily in a chair, in the living room of our apartment, and wait for her to come home. She's always late these days. Another log into the fire. But I always wait, even through her angered words and complaints. I'm waiting for her to give in and see, because maybe, if we both know what's happening, I can pull her out.
Just in time to save her.
The clock pushes by ten. I wonder if I should sleep, but I fear for waking up and not finding her here. Across the room, a metallic silver stereo catches my attention. A thin layer of dust covers it and the surrounding speakers from being unused for so long, and that gives me an idea for what I can do, to take my mind off of waiting. I get up and walk over to turn it on, my finger automatically pressing the button for the third disk to play. A slow, sad beat resonates through the room.
My body moves automatically, no thoughts to order its movements. The only emotions in me are the dread and anxiety of what's happening, and I feel myself shaking trying to express them. Her hands are cold against my body when she holds me from behind, not stopping my movements, but containing them. Then, suddenly, she pushes against me, shoving me away. I stumble and turn to face her, but she's already coming at me. Artfully, she throws and pulls my body around as only she knows how to do. I'm trapped in a whirlwind, feebly trying to soothe her with an embrace before again being tossed. Like a doll that she's afraid is trying to lose itself.
We end up on the floor somehow, tumbling over each other, battling for who gets their say, but then I'm on my back and staring at her, helplessly, as she innocently smiles in accomplishment. I feel myself give in to her fight against the fire. I let her have her way. Because I know she doesn't understand, and she'll always keep fighting, and I, ever the idiot, will keep letting her. We're heading for the end.
Really, we should have known by now.
But, in my mind, I can see us still dancing, slowly, in the midst of our burning room.
I remember when the air was clear, when the sun shone through the window of our room.
This room, the one that only belongs to us.
Since the moment I saw her, bathed in white light upon the stage, walls started building around us. At first, they were our sanctuary. We were dancers, each of us, and in a world where eyes of strangers never left our bodies, the only hope for escape was in our own mind...or with someone else.
We used each other to hide from everything around us. Even our own dreams.
But our room, with heavy walls to block out the world, still lacked something essential, and I found it the night I danced with her.
She was moving slowly, on her own, in the darkened practice room. I couldn't hear music playing, but in the way she swayed and turned so elegantly, I felt that I could hear her. Her feet curled and supported her as they would in ballet, but her body was loose and moved almost unpredictably, wildly. From the damp, dark brown strands of hair in front of her eyes to the small layer of sweat gathering on every inch of her gliding body, I saw in that moment the endless extent of her beauty.
She showed no surprise when I, the entranced, placed myself before her back and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She just kept moving, allowing me to join her, complement her, merge with her in any way possible. This dance spoke beyond words. There was no plan or order. We simply moved to the beat of each other.
That night, in the entanglement of limbs, our room gained a window, letting the sunlight in.
If only we had been so aware when the light created fire.
The little things, above all else, would be our downfall. The way I laugh, how she always finds something wrong, broken china, a dent in the wall, and a sneeze, even, could add fuel to the flame. She never realized, but I saw it growing. I watched almost helplessly as every wrong move we ever made tore at our escape. We, the creators, were killing the only haven we had ever known. And, although she didn't see it, she was fighting back.
But fighting, apparently, was the last thing we needed.
I sit warily in a chair, in the living room of our apartment, and wait for her to come home. She's always late these days. Another log into the fire. But I always wait, even through her angered words and complaints. I'm waiting for her to give in and see, because maybe, if we both know what's happening, I can pull her out.
Just in time to save her.
The clock pushes by ten. I wonder if I should sleep, but I fear for waking up and not finding her here. Across the room, a metallic silver stereo catches my attention. A thin layer of dust covers it and the surrounding speakers from being unused for so long, and that gives me an idea for what I can do, to take my mind off of waiting. I get up and walk over to turn it on, my finger automatically pressing the button for the third disk to play. A slow, sad beat resonates through the room.
My body moves automatically, no thoughts to order its movements. The only emotions in me are the dread and anxiety of what's happening, and I feel myself shaking trying to express them. Her hands are cold against my body when she holds me from behind, not stopping my movements, but containing them. Then, suddenly, she pushes against me, shoving me away. I stumble and turn to face her, but she's already coming at me. Artfully, she throws and pulls my body around as only she knows how to do. I'm trapped in a whirlwind, feebly trying to soothe her with an embrace before again being tossed. Like a doll that she's afraid is trying to lose itself.
We end up on the floor somehow, tumbling over each other, battling for who gets their say, but then I'm on my back and staring at her, helplessly, as she innocently smiles in accomplishment. I feel myself give in to her fight against the fire. I let her have her way. Because I know she doesn't understand, and she'll always keep fighting, and I, ever the idiot, will keep letting her. We're heading for the end.
Really, we should have known by now.
But, in my mind, I can see us still dancing, slowly, in the midst of our burning room.
[/shadow][/glow]