Heard

I HEARD YOU!
But she didn't.
She didn't hear anything that wasnt about her own pity. Looking at her now she didn't look as intimidating as when I was a child. In fact she was trembling, pausing for a mere moment to choose which person to morph into next. She gleamed at me in such a way that years ago would have sent shivers up my spine. We were far past such searching looks. At one point I would've taken such a glare as a sign of defeat on her part, but this was just...sad. She was searching for sympathy in a sea of despair, and the emotions filling the living room were enough to drown us both out. I couldn't bare to look at her, it was weak. Almost as if I could see her confidence fleeing from the monster she had trapped in her soul. Where was the women who spent her sparetime brewing self esteem in a coffee pot? I could feel her frantic eyes searching my face for any sign of once harbored emotions. 
She wouldn't find any.
How could she? I had learned they were nothing but frail setbacks, due my torturous past with her.
We were looking at two different water glasses one of which was filled and the other lacking something of importance. There was nothing left for me to do but leave. Standing I kissed her goodbye she had this flustered look upon her face I couldn't shake from memory the whole drive home

***

I must've sat on those stairs for awhile before going inside because I had already counted four dogwalkers. The spring night turning cold and the croaks of those damed frogs always the frogs, forced me to go inside. As I stood in the doorway I watched him,  he hadn't heard me come in, he was absorbed in a new book and you could see the concentration in his temple. For a minute I just watched him read absorbing the moment. Trying to make sure i would remember every detail. Taking a seat next to him he jumped, stating he hadn't heard me come in. He was staring at me now, he knew something was wrong. Usually I'd tell him every detail, I d confess my soul and stain the couch in emotions. Yet I must admit, that storyline sounds awfully similar to my mothers. Then the silence drew out long enough for him to ask, "what's wrong?" 
Nothing I responded.
He may not have been able to hear my emotions, but he could read them and that is what I had been craving all along.

....right?



Xoxo geniece