Monday, January 18, 2010

Sleeping With The Enemy

It wasn't really a matter of morals, not at the time. It was a chance at an opportunity that I had let go by in the past. My body moved gracefully in every direction for the first time in my clumsy life. I watched the twisted confusion in your eyes as you tried to read a book that was finally closed to you. Brushing the dust away with your gaze stroke by stoke from head to toe, hoping to pluck me off the shelf again. Your efforts went unrewarded and you started to enjoy the uncertainty.


Energy surged through your nervous body making you squirm like a child being held too tightly for just a moment too long. Smiling at your discomfort it occurs to me that I have the control for the first time in our short affaire. It's appropriate to refer to this as an affaire as apposed to a friendship or god forbid, a relationship. An affaire is a passing moment, it's wrong in more ways than one. It has multiple meanings and even larger responsibilities. Yes, it's fitting to refer to it as an affair.


Every thought in your mind might as well have been uttered out loud like a Schizophrenic and that made you so easy to manipulate; but too damn crazy to realize it. Insanity must come from years of games and over confidence, the kind that is faked and not really earned. Though your thin veil hiding the face of truth is being taken over by beautiful moths tonight. Revealing holes that your insecurity is painfully emerging from.


The moment lingers on my tongue and I imagine the taste of my prey. Our chess game of wit and unpredictability has suddenly taken a sharp turn to a game of cat and mouse. My claws were out, I was in pouncing position and I was ready to bring home my prize; because this time I win.


It wasn't really a matter of morals, not at the time. It was a chance at an opportunity that I had let pass too many times.