A little thought

I think the phrase "just like a dream" holds a lot of truth. Something too good for our meager realities to conjure up, too vivid to encounter anywhere but in deep sleep. I guess our subconscious minds live a much more exciting life than their conscious counterparts. After all, most of their nights end in a blur, like a binge, a purge. It's lost memory, lost time, a lingering moment that stains the tip of my tongue with desire.

It's worse when I can't tell them apart. When these worlds bleed into each other. I wake up in a cold sweat because it can't be true, its not real.

All these thoughts are better during the day. Light is the best medicine, I take it in pills, I should know.

So when you get down on one knee, the tepid air goes frigid and I can't help but think of how impossible, physically, that is. Heat is always a trade - how can it just disappear? Did it fill the void that my disdain for you had drilled into my heart? Did it drive this ill conceived attempt to bind two sad, dreary people together? Why am I sweating when it is so so cold?

I suppose with perspective, I can see what you were going for. But if you could see with perspective you would understand me, a least a bit. Because there is some chance that these lights are romantic, soft, sensual, the kind of lighting that whispers words like ambiance and murmur. But under a thin spread of negativity, cynicism, temper, doubt - take your pick - is the dimness, the lackluster, the stale, contrived attempt at atmosphere.

You are talking but I don't listen. I think you are lying, that's all. Nothing personal, I just don't love you. Which I suppose is sad but nothing that should come as a surprise.

If I had said no to you, the first, second, third date, this would be easier. Why I don't tell the truth, I don't know. What I do know is that it has made me bitter at you, because you can't understand a yes from a no, or a goodbye from hello.

I guess it isn't your fault either, that you could not see in me, a friend or a foe.