why i said no to your coffee date
no. because i’m sensitive to caffeine, and because i’m too sensitive to everything else, and because i’m not sensitive enough. because i have to remind myself to recite the expected pleasantries each time i have a conversation, and eventually i will forget to ask you the correct question at the correct time and you’ll see how insensitive i truly am.
no. because i’m too old to try something new. because the path i’ve etched through the canyon of my years is not wide enough for two, and i don’t know any other way to live. because any sweetness i ever had evaporated and left behind a sour residue, and you’ll get to the bottom of your cup of coffee and realize the bitterness you tasted was just me.
no. because i’m closed off, in a way that can’t be mistaken for mysterious. you’ll ask me, what it was like to grow up in los angeles, what my favorite class in college was, what i had for breakfast yesterday, and i’ll have no reply because i don’t know. because i’m locked out of myself and may never find a way back in. because you’re looking for a way inside, and you’ll be hard-pressed to find an entrance whose handle i haven’t already broken off in frustration.
no. because i’m wild, like a feral animal, and you’re a corner. because i never rest. because when you’ve been caught before, everything becomes a trap. because if you get too close, i’ll do something instinctive and desperate with an electric terror in my eyes, and you’ll blame yourself for scaring me when really, i couldn’t even see you.
no. because i’m confusing, and unnerving, and my limbs don’t move like a person’s should. because i’ve dragged myself for miles, the grit in the concrete wearing the flesh down, leaving myself spread a centimeter thick behind me across all the places i’ve crawled out of. because what’s left of me is grotesque, and raw, and inhuman. because my mouth makes shapes that sound like words until you really listen. because you’ll look up at me over your cup of coffee tomorrow morning, or five years from now, and see for the first time how the light catches me in the wrong places, and you’ll feel a jolt of fear.
no. because i couldn’t keep up with you anyway, all long legs and long conversations. because i’m all goose and you’re all chase, with a breeze that never catches my wings always tugging at the hem of your shirt like an invitation to run away together. because you’ll convince the whole coffee shop that the hour had struck early when your laughter rings out like a bell calling the faithful to pray. because it would become painfully obvious what i think of your laugh-filled mouth after watching me watch you drink your coffee. because i’ve never had a face for poker, but you have a face that has me pushing all my chips forward.
no. because i want to. because i really want to.