Expansive Moments of Constricted Lives
You make me want to write and sing and scream and dance and thrash wildly while ripping hair out of my head. I want to grab you in the middle of dinner, and show you a different definition of thrashing on top of some poor first year's mashed potatoes. I want to hear you make any sound besides a scoff; see any face besides a smirking one. I want to hear a gasp; I want to see a smile. I want to see you.
You make me want to whirl into a land where sometimes I think that true love is possible and people will accept us for who we are, together, without at least one attempt on both of our lives. A land where I think that you might actually want me for who I am, and not who I pretend to be. A land where there's no distraction for us, no trailing fingers running suggestively up my arm when I'm too busy staring at you for anything else. I want you to look back at me, grin softly, and slowly incline your head sideways towards the door as I follow you quietly outside.
You make me unconsciously worry for your well-being when I see the faintest sign of you not sleeping well or studying too hard. I want to take your head into my lap, and worry away your worry lines. Lull you to sleep, and watch you wake in the morning, with no shadows to hide behind, with no demons to haunt your soul.
You make me feel foolish.
You make me feel weak.
You make me feel wonderful.
oOo
You make me incredibly aroused, you know that? When you're just sitting there, brow furrowed as you suck on a quill, and try to figure out a problem we both know you'll never get. It leads me to think of other problems you could try to understand, and other things to suck on, and sit on, and other parts of you that might be furrowed.
You make me feel frustrated, when you give in so easily to that… thing's advances, after so little fire flickers in your eyes. I want to die inside every time she dares to touch you with her cloying filthy whore hands. I want to rip her into shreds, and I would happily do so with absolutely no qualms. I want to see you gently shake your head, tell me she's not worth, and that I could be doing so many other things with my valuable time. Then I want to see you lead me out of the Hall, and watch your head thrown back, veins bulging in your neck as I nip it, and fuck you all over the next available surface.
You make me want to scream at you that if you wait a little longer, we could be, someday. I just have to work a little harder, a little longer. But it will happen. I dream about you sometimes, did you know that? I stare at you, the rising sun at your back, but it doesn't matter if that's there. The warmth of your gaze warms me until I wake.
You make me feel like a hero.
You make me feel strong.
You make me feel broken.
oOo
A/N: The title comes from W. H. Auden's poem 'The Two (or The Witnesses)
You are the town and we are the clock.
We are the guardians of the gate in the rock.
The Two.
On your left and on your right
In the day and in the night,
We are watching you.
Wiser not to ask just what has occurred
To them who disobeyed our word;
To those
We were the whirlpool, we were the reef,
We were the formal nightmare, grief
And the unlucky rose.
Climb up the crane , learn the sailor's words
When the ships from the islands laden with birds
Come in.
Tell your stories of fishing and other men's wives:
The expansive moments of constricted lives
In the lighted inn.
But do not imagine we do not know
Nor that what you hide with such care won't show
At a glance.
Nothing is done, nothing is said,
But don't make the mistake of believing us dead:
I shouldn't dance.
We're afraid in that case you'll have a fall.
We've been watching you over the garden wall
For hours.
The sky is darkening like a stain,
Something is going to fall like rain
And it won't be flowers.
When the green field comes off like a lid
Revealing what was much better hid:
Unpleasant.
And look, behind you without a sound
The woods have come up and are standing round
In deadly crescent.
The bolt is sliding in its groove,
Outside the window is the black remov-
ers' van.
And now with sudden swift emergence
Come the woman in dark glasses and humpbacked surgeons
And the scissors man.
This might happen any day
So be careful what you say
Or do.
Be clean, be tidy, oil the lock,
Trim the garden, wind the clock,
Remember the Two.