Like a creepy stranger I linger in a seemingly useless moment, I listen from this end of the line, I urge you on, I encourage you to say something while I don’t want you to, and I want you to stammer, to murmur, your words to stumble. I take pleasure in that, when you are dump-founded, when you can’t say it, when the right words are beyond the moment. At that moment I listen to things you aren’t saying, to the wild thoughts you are struggling to ebb, to those words you wish you can say to me, to the faint heartbeat I can’t really hear but wish I could. I enjoy the incessant but hard flow, the only prelude to the words and thoughts in your mind; I listen to your breathing…
You breathe with a noticeable struggle, the kind that is brought by having a hush-hush. Your breathing has a tune, a sweet one, at least to me it has one, because I listen, am a fan. The kind that I only understand, I only have heard. Creepy huh!!! I know but my care is less, my worry is absent and my yearning to hear it again is constant, resilient and equally bizarre.
Why do you breathe with that soothing potency? Do you always reconsider things you would rather say? What is it that you search with all that trouble? I can only hope I will get to know one day, but then again my fun will lessen. Something tells me when I do, I will have conquered you, if I haven’t already and that’s the only fear I got in myself; then again you’ve got your reasons. When I call again I will listen, you will not know it but it will get there, I always make sure it does.
I know there are a million other reasons I like about you. There is a lot I miss you for but my ego only allows me to say these much, maybe the passion in me will make easy my willingness to strip, but before that happens i will be careful what I say here.
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