Push Pull

July 2, 2009 at 9:49 am Leave a comment

I find myself caught, lassooed and tugged. Toyed with like a yo-yo. Up. Down. Push. Pull.
I understand the game; empathise with the strategy. But the motion sickness is taking its toll.

I wish he knew what he wanted and the courage to commit. I’m not asking a lot – just either push me to arm’s length and leave me their to remain, or pull me close and enclose me with your embrace.

Instead he lets me come in close – close enough that our breathing threatens to become one – only to push me back to the edges. There he holds me, pushed to the edge of his reach so only his extended fingers can tickle my arm. I should walk away. I hate being tickled.

I know that he will pull me back. His arm grows tired of being outstretched so instead of tickling the fringe, he’ll caress and cajole until I yield. Closer I’ll step until once again I am chest to chest with him, breath entwined.

And in those moments of being pulled close I will see him for who he is; see right through to his being. He can’t hide his emotion from me when I’m nestled there, chest to chest. It’s why he’ll push me back out to an arm’s length.

But I like being nestled in close and only tolerate being pushed to arms length out of faith that the pulling is soon to arrive. I know it’s not healthy. I know he should just decide.

I should just decide.