A.H.
9:10 p.m.

I'm searching for the words to pen and nothing comes out right,

theres always a stutter, and something wont rhyme and theres too many syllables and the words become tangled in my hand, and I leave them there, hoping that someday that string will untangle, but it wont, it will just bind my hands in a knot that can't be undone.

I want to write for you. I want to show you who I am. I want you to stop, your breath in your chest, in the sheer amazement of me. But I cant. your too much for that.

I want you to notice me in the halls, the way that i notice you, the way that I'm suddenly self conscious of how im presenting myself, when you merely enter my peripheral vision. And I wish I could accept that it just won't happen.

Crave me.

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