Eskimo Words for Snow

Scintillating is how she is...like indescribable...but walking out amongst humans and recognizable and what-not she appeared completely and utterly fine...wearing her normal palette of colors and blending in....she had a habit of saying "you know what I mean" and for somebody who's brain I tried to figure out a long time ago I admit I had some trouble keeping up at times.

In the complicated complexity and puzzle of us it was hard to find discontent...mostly the times were exquisite...monumental...a visit to the Louvre.  An Eiffel Tower sunset.  A side street in France surrounded by strangers who glanced at obvious attraction on display.  Yearning.

What do we call it?  

Friction, protected words and stances...hard to explain...like Eskimo words for snow...so many nuances and layers.

Back to discontent...trouble...storms on the horizon.  Rare.  Fucking rare.  Primarily because she avoided conflict like dark alleys and sandstorms.  

But every once in awhile he wandered and stepped on a landmine...a sacred area she deemed untouchable.

Incompatible.

At least to them.  They could peacefully coexist in this world and nobody would blink.  Throw a flag.  Allow a slight entry point from the oxygen they required from others and it was a bit out of bounds.

It was frustrating...this greek chorus that could chatter about them but candidly never did...but if I invited then I probably violated our protocol.

It was the bad pull from the Jenga game...the spill of a beer pong cup.  

I could be carefully crafting a world but behind her, behind the props and the curtains was her world.  A sacred place. And if I pulled back a piece of that cloth between these places it was exposure.

A kryptonite.

Untouchable to me...

I know she had one foot in one world and one in another...and if I wanted both of them in mine I think I risked the gravity and physics that brought attraction in the first place.

I suppose I wanted a lot.  Given her shine.