a loss for words

It's been one week and two days. And you called me every one of those one week and 2 days.
But I ignored you.
On purpose.
I wished you would have just gone away.

"Dinner has to be somewhere cheap. I'm broke and I don't get paid until tomorrow."

Fine with me, I just spent $200 at Wal-Mart for all kinds of ridiculous things.

"Sonic or McDonald's then?" I ask, not really paying attention.

"Sonic. I absolutely will not eat at McDonald's. Shall I come get you or do you wanna meet me here or..."

Why can't you just make up your mind? I'm indecisive...like I'd know? Or care?

"I'm closer. Best bet would be come get me here," I tell you. Always making the decisions. So I waited for you, just as you waited for me. If you only knew what you waited for, would you?

You're at my door step. Knocking. Knocking. Knocking.
And yes, I'm ignoring. Ignoring. Ignoring.
But I give in. I go. I always go.
And you drive - through the silence that endlessly separates us by a whole 2 feet.

"How was your day?" Silence cut.

"Long. Semi-productive. Got the a cappella project started finally...but gah, let me tell you the guy I met up with today is a total pretentious asshole. Talked down to me the entire time."

You laugh.
I smile. And continue to tell you the story I'm sure you're not really all that interested in.

It's all just fluff and you know it. TALK TO ME.

This metaphorical silence drifting in the midst of this less-than-serious conversation is driving me mad. Maybe it's driving you mad, too. Hell, I can't tell. After all, you seem content just talking fluff.

I slept with you. And we aren't even dating! Jesus just say something! Anything...

"Drive thru or do you want to eat here?"

"Let's eat here," I tell you. Why do I have to make all the decisions? Why do I have to be the one to break this silence? DAMN IT!

I open my mouth to spill my soul out to you. Pour the contents of my heart onto you. But all that comes:

"I'll just have a No. 2 with mayo, fries, and a large cherry limeade."

I foil myself. Every time. He gets his No. 3 with extra pickles and a Powerade. And the fluff continues on through the night. Through high school throw backs. Through the hungry Kansas air, anticipating the oncoming storm.

Calm before the storm. Why does it always happen this way? Why can't I just feel the way you do?

A quick errand. You drop me off, kiss me goodnight. "See you soon," you say.

"Night, hon," as I watch you drive away, remembering the kiss you left and the memories that rushed back.

Difference is this time, I don't feel a thing.