The Circle Closes
Monsoon Midmornings (From Matt’s Universe)
By Michael Martin
The Matt and Ivy Show
The Circle Closes
Coffee never tasted this good. Cigarettes never felt this wonderful. Unless she was there with me, sharing time. The world felt like it was in equilibrium. Everything and everyone was a dreamy haze, except for the woman sitting opposite me. She was all that mattered. Blinding in her radiance, awesome to behold. I talk about her like she is a goddess. Maybe in that respect she is. When someone has that kind of hold over you without meaning to, when you give her the wrecking ball to do with as she wishes, while you cringe and smile, terrified of what she might do, yet thankful that she bothered to stay anyway, then she is a goddess. Yours anyway. Or mine to be specific.
Don’t get me wrong I didn’t succumb at the first instance. To be plain, I went down kicking and screaming. I had to be dragged by the roots of my hair by time, fate and chance. That led me here. Hopelessly in love with someone who will never be mine to hold.
The air is pregnant with moisture as they are in this season. It makes everything seem of the verge of change. We’re sitting at the second floor veranda of a coffee house, looking out at the hustle and bustle below us. Somehow it seems different. I’ve known her for four years. There’s a shift within her. I cannot figure out what it is though. She seems older too, wiser and more in control of herself. Makes me love her more. She’s maturing into one hell of a wonderful woman.
She makes a huge deal out of it, looking intently at me while I construct my thoughts into coherent half sentences. The strain is not yet at a point to matter but it is distracting. A knowing smile now and then and an almost imperceptible nod of the head, which is what I call her let’s see how freaking good you are under pressure mister or the I feel like screwing with your head now because I can, then she throws the “So you still can’t look at me huh, Matt? ”. Which of course sends me mentally sprawling on the sidewalk.
I shake my head and try to regain my wits. She laughs. It’s one of her short chuckles that speak volumes of amusement. I could wait a lifetime to hear that again. “You can’t, huh?”
I decide to lay it on straight. No mustard.
“You know why? You’re within sight and my whole universe turns upside down. You’re this close and all I can think of is shoving this table away and taking you in my arms to kiss you. I look into your eyes and I get overwhelmed by how heartbreakingly beautiful you are.”
She stares at me blankly. Does she always have to be this difficult? She could just say “Fuck off Matt.” Then it’ll be done. She never gives a hint if what I say even reaches her mind. It always feels like it falls on deaf or indifferent ears. Yet still she would not dismiss me. A reaction would be nice though. It isn’t a dream to talk to statues. No matter how crazy I seem.
Damn. “It tears me apart, you know? I tried to stay away the past year! I did everything I could to forget you. I moved jobs, uprooted myself and to what merit? My world goes quiet for a second and you re the first thing that pops into my head. After all my efforts, one message from you and everything comes crumbling down. You know why I came? I came to tell myself that I am over you. That I can live my life and come back to you in the in the only way you want me. As a friend. To sit here now and accept that I couldn’t. I can’t.” I choke up and look away. I can’t do this, I cannot allow myself to live like this. I was planning to get my shit together and then take her home – a head on my shoulder, and a hand on my arm. “You kept running away Matt. I was waiting for you to stop fighting it.”
The world goes quiet. Silent. Still. I feel a steady humming in my skin, and become aware that the sky had opened up. I tilt my head just a bit, tentative. My cheeks find her there. The stillness feels like it can stretch for eternity. I close my eyes and smile. So this is what writers write about. The moment. The decision. It’s breathtaking to feel this, when you are at an age to really appreciate it. The jump. Or when you open the door for the first time and walk inside. There is a timeless wonder to it.
I am not sure why, but although I can’t see her face, I can feel she’s smiling. But her eyes remain so sad. The circle has closed.
By Michael Martin
The Matt and Ivy Show
The Circle Closes
Coffee never tasted this good. Cigarettes never felt this wonderful. Unless she was there with me, sharing time. The world felt like it was in equilibrium. Everything and everyone was a dreamy haze, except for the woman sitting opposite me. She was all that mattered. Blinding in her radiance, awesome to behold. I talk about her like she is a goddess. Maybe in that respect she is. When someone has that kind of hold over you without meaning to, when you give her the wrecking ball to do with as she wishes, while you cringe and smile, terrified of what she might do, yet thankful that she bothered to stay anyway, then she is a goddess. Yours anyway. Or mine to be specific.
Don’t get me wrong I didn’t succumb at the first instance. To be plain, I went down kicking and screaming. I had to be dragged by the roots of my hair by time, fate and chance. That led me here. Hopelessly in love with someone who will never be mine to hold.
The air is pregnant with moisture as they are in this season. It makes everything seem of the verge of change. We’re sitting at the second floor veranda of a coffee house, looking out at the hustle and bustle below us. Somehow it seems different. I’ve known her for four years. There’s a shift within her. I cannot figure out what it is though. She seems older too, wiser and more in control of herself. Makes me love her more. She’s maturing into one hell of a wonderful woman.
She makes a huge deal out of it, looking intently at me while I construct my thoughts into coherent half sentences. The strain is not yet at a point to matter but it is distracting. A knowing smile now and then and an almost imperceptible nod of the head, which is what I call her let’s see how freaking good you are under pressure mister or the I feel like screwing with your head now because I can, then she throws the “So you still can’t look at me huh, Matt? ”. Which of course sends me mentally sprawling on the sidewalk.
I shake my head and try to regain my wits. She laughs. It’s one of her short chuckles that speak volumes of amusement. I could wait a lifetime to hear that again. “You can’t, huh?”
I decide to lay it on straight. No mustard.
“You know why? You’re within sight and my whole universe turns upside down. You’re this close and all I can think of is shoving this table away and taking you in my arms to kiss you. I look into your eyes and I get overwhelmed by how heartbreakingly beautiful you are.”
She stares at me blankly. Does she always have to be this difficult? She could just say “Fuck off Matt.” Then it’ll be done. She never gives a hint if what I say even reaches her mind. It always feels like it falls on deaf or indifferent ears. Yet still she would not dismiss me. A reaction would be nice though. It isn’t a dream to talk to statues. No matter how crazy I seem.
Damn. “It tears me apart, you know? I tried to stay away the past year! I did everything I could to forget you. I moved jobs, uprooted myself and to what merit? My world goes quiet for a second and you re the first thing that pops into my head. After all my efforts, one message from you and everything comes crumbling down. You know why I came? I came to tell myself that I am over you. That I can live my life and come back to you in the in the only way you want me. As a friend. To sit here now and accept that I couldn’t. I can’t.” I choke up and look away. I can’t do this, I cannot allow myself to live like this. I was planning to get my shit together and then take her home – a head on my shoulder, and a hand on my arm. “You kept running away Matt. I was waiting for you to stop fighting it.”
The world goes quiet. Silent. Still. I feel a steady humming in my skin, and become aware that the sky had opened up. I tilt my head just a bit, tentative. My cheeks find her there. The stillness feels like it can stretch for eternity. I close my eyes and smile. So this is what writers write about. The moment. The decision. It’s breathtaking to feel this, when you are at an age to really appreciate it. The jump. Or when you open the door for the first time and walk inside. There is a timeless wonder to it.
I am not sure why, but although I can’t see her face, I can feel she’s smiling. But her eyes remain so sad. The circle has closed.
posted by Michael Martin at 10:51 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home