That I could never forget the way
You told me everything
By saying nothing
In a manner of speaking I don’t understand
How love in silence becomes reprimand
But the way I feel about you is beyond words
Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me nothing
Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me everything
In a manner of speaking Semantics won't do
In this life that we live we only make do
And the way that we feel might have to be sacrificed
So in a manner of speaking
I just want to say
That like you I should find a way
To tell you everything
By saying nothing
Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me nothing
Oh give me the words
(this part of the post was added after a glass of wine at one of my favorite restaurants in town..so I am feeling a little better.)
ON Sundays Bombay is closed, so I meander over to Shanti, where the servers greet me kindly and know what I want before I sit down. The smell on the street reminds me of the place I would visit when in London, just down the street from my flat. I hope everyone there is okay but Bayswater was not one of the tubes hit...still, King's Crossing was a big one for me...
"Where is your little one?" someone usually asks, since Lilly is now to the point where sitting quietly with me is rare..
I drove home (I was crying) and entered my complex to see two sets of rainbows and a hot air balloon's silouette north of here. It made all my furrowed brow stuff disappear.
Besides, I have The Life Aquatic with Steve Zisso to keep me company.
Also, just saw The Station Agent, and was reminded of an old friend(but he would not call me his friend) who not only looks-- but acts like Finbar. It was a good movie.
Ok, back to the angst-ridden blog of earlier..
"So, what dujewdo this weekend," he asked, trying to be all cool and swanky. It wasn't working for me. I held my daughter's hand. I looked at him, head cocked to one side, as if he didn't know my reply.
"Give me a single latte to go, please," avoiding the question. Avoiding him all together. He knew better than to ask. I stopped looking in his eyes. I usually wear my sunglasses upon entering. I never linger more than a second. I rarely smile. I hate going in there now. (soma see and be seen..)
People seem to move so quickly and I am standing holding the door, wiping the dust from my eyes, picking up their trash, apologizing to the parents, patiently waiting my turn, calmly explaining the noise to the neighbors, giving all of myself, sharing with someone I thought was different than the rest, trusting, being vulnerable, being nice...blah blah blah, inside asking myself why I was such a sucker, hating everyone--every woman for being female, every man for being male. You would think someone would learn after years and years of the same old treatment and heartbreak. (me below..)
While cleaning up her coffee-making mess he was complimenting a young twenty-something girl on her looks only after 4 hours of sleep, I dragged my girl out of there to my car.
I wonder how I looked after 4 hours of sleep--different circumstances--not at all comparible. He will never understand that. Too bad--too bad all of you.
