v u l v a l i c i o u s
Mixing grrls together, in a swirl of eyes and hearts and memories
Eyes. Not just in that "window to the soul" way, but more than that. The flowing interconnectedness that comes from them connecting across rooms and small spaces. The meaning of a glance, of staring at someone and being caught.
I can see her eyes so clearly, though I haven't seen them in months. They are sweet yet persistent, hazel, maybe. Or they aren't so clear as I thought--were they blue instead? She is fuzzy to me, whispered through seasons and phone lines. I tell her she is like crisp button-down shirts, newly pressed and smelling of laundry. It makes her happy, but it makes her nervous. She articulates the former, but not the latter. I deconstruct her thoughts via email, reading between the lines of her voiceless words.
And there is someone else, someone closer, whose words take on a speechless quality. Closer, yes, and yet more distant. Her eyes cloud the eyes of the other--is it their incessant darkness which has such a power? The fact that, even when laughing, no light seems to escape them? They are wise and entangling; deep dark woods in my red riding hood world. I go walking alone, and find myself singing a song which she absent-mindedly picks up and carries along. For a moment, I feel safe with her. She is my sweater girl, warm and comforting, yet almost uncomfortably intense. How can she embody this duality so?
But their laughs are what separate them, really. The first has a laugh which is loud, catching. It erupts from her chest, it seems. Is it her heart that creates it? I could swear it must be, if I didn't know better. The other laughs from behind closed doors; her laugh is a crooked smile, stifled.
For me, they do the same thing. I remember feeling caught off guard by both of them. I remember their eyes, now intermingled in a deep blue-black haze, a cacophony of color. I remember their laughs in fits and starts, the pittance of books we've shared and memories from separate lives that seem to draw us together.
These are the grrls I do not desire, but long for, deeply. I emplore them to stay with me, to tell me their secrets so that someday I might follow their paths. These are the ones that keep me up at night, unanswered questions that haunt and tease.
Do I want her, or want to be her?
I don't think I'll ever know.