Teach Me

you said to me that you liked to hear that, but further, it does not leave room for any improvement if I explain to you that things seem at their possible best.
there are not enough hours in a day for us to talk. i thought momentarily about putting music on in the car, then decided against wasting time.
he told me to stop admitting defeat so far before i begin.

"no, i was really interested in what you were saying, tell me about working with your hands."

"no, i want to hear all of the sad things."

i apologized for being so comfortable.
i love everything you say to me because it's been thought about so long and hard.
you tell me that you were thinking about what i would be thinking if i were listening to what you were talking about, and how you still remained so completely involved in your conversation. i told you that i knew you were. you admit that you like our dynamic, because it's even, equal.
you use the word not fragile, but delicate. you tell me after you take me out of my comfort zone, that all is intended. you worry that you manipulate so seamlessly, that all those who adore you are defenseless against you. i am a pain in the ass, i throw a pity party, i get us lost, i am impatient.
you attempt to explain to me all of the freeways of california, i am staring at your hands admiring them, but thinking also, that you have so much you could teach me.

his rage was foreign, radiant, i wanted to place my hand on his leg, but i could not move. his voice was different. 
we're possessive, controlling. you put your arm behind the seat of my car, i like that. 

you say to me that i can not make a decision to save my life, you remind me that everything is in flux, and unpredictable, and nothing is about me. you said that i know where you keep things, i respond that it is a good thing that you trust me. i depreciate myself until i am out of words.
you still plant a kiss goodbye.