There are doors that let you in
But never open
But they are trapdoors
That you can't come back from
Little words were exchanged today. We spoke intermittently, but it wasn't through direct conversation. Instead, we played this game with instant messenger profiles. Being her playful self, she put some of my lovely prose into her profile, and reading it, I decided I would do the same. It became a game of virtual tag, with every touch bringing us a little bit closer. Closer to what we are dancing around. Closer to tomorrow night.
Hers - "all i want to do is drink some vino, eat some italian, and have a good time with you :)"
His - "i think you just made my day. is that okay?"
Hers - "I like the way things are going."
I grow tired of words. So the phrase goes, that actions speak louder than words. Yet acting is exactly what we do every day. I try to act calm, collective and reserved. It's excitement, eating the twisted seconds of my day; it's nervous termites eating the whittled hopes I have been pouring over for what seems like forever.
It's building. The climax should be tomorrow, but for all the right reasons, I hope it's not tomorrow. I hope it's forever. An eternal climax. I think that's like sitting on the peak of the world.