he started a conversation in chat. i entered it cautiously. he asked when i was coming to melbourne, and into his arms. i responded to the first part of the question. i asked him when he's coming to sydney. he'll be here when it's my birthday. maybe i shouldn't have asked. i don't want to think about him on my birthday. i don't want to think about him at all. but i do. i willed him to say hello tonight, and he did. i enjoyed his flirting. i loved that i had his attention, his words, and that he was reading mine. we connected. for the first time, since his leaving, a conversation.
he asked if i'd found love. i said no. an odd question that i can't help dissecting. i asked if he had. he said he was still licking his wounds. from his ex, i assumed, but he wouldn't clarify. i can see that he likes me, thinks of me, maybe even wants me. but it feels like a game of cat and mouse. he's unpredictable, flighty, off the cuff. i can't read him. so i try be less engaged, less wanting, and speak to him from a distant, safe place. but i can't help wanting to be there, in his arms. where he'll no doubt rip me to shreds.
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