I liked you best when you were angry. With him, with her, with them, with the world. With me. I liked watching you fight it, watching you lose, watching the mask fall away to reveal a woman not all together kind, gentle, courteous, fair. You went from a mama to a real mother and that's when I wanted you.
I liked you best when your wit and intelligence were replaced by something dangerous and primal. Caution wasn't thrown to the wind. Caution was burned down, slashed open, rent to ribbons. That easy smile cracked and showed me a sneer. I knew then I was in the wrong place at the right time.
I was convenient. I was willing. You never raised your voice to me. If anything, you only growled.
I liked you best when you were angry at yourself.
Sometimes I'm not sure you knew I was there. Or rather, long moments when your dialogue was so internal. I could have been anyone. I was glad to be me, so glad, but you weren't really standing there with me. You were only really aware of the war you waged and I was never sure whether I was the punishment or the reward. I think it depended on whether or not I could walk straight in the morning. Were you defeated or victorious when you just let go and I screamed?
Who was it that told you to bottle that up? Lord, grrl, I wish I could bottle and sell it! You mad is you hooked into the ether. The air crackled, the walls, floor, counters cracked. Your snarl against my ear always read my mind. You were three dimensions reaching into Flatland. I unspoolled, raven glossimer, just as quickly as I un- everything else.
I never knew what to say. I just stood back, stood up, offered myself into the fray of whatever force you fought. I just... I thought it was love. I knew it wasn't mutual but I thought it was love.
But it wasn't.
It was addiction. Like my penchant for speed and stunts and roof jumping. I wanted... I *needed*... to see something, someone that wasn't as shallow and banal as everyone so often seemed. I wanted to see someone, know someone, who could transform so completely. Not a chameleon, a changling. Knowable, safe... but only to a point... and then unpredictable, wild. True.
But was that truth?
Primal is foundation. But foundation is not always truth. One part of us is not the sum total of who we are. Now I know.
And I regret that I must admit that I know you not at all.
I only know, that I liked you best when you were angry.
