Words to myself??

I finished an email to someone I like. Someone I am going to see again this week. I already sent it and I can't take it back. I am remembering when I would funnel my thoughts through my fingertips to someone else that I liked and I scared him.

I don't think my words are scary, I think they are heartfelt but not necessarily deep or meaningful. They are just letters tapped out as my brain squeezes them though all the grey matter, past my nose, unable to escape through my lips they channel down my chest, my arms, turning at the elbows and out my tips.

I love the thought of letters tumbling around in me. Jumbles that are only complete words once they have found the right outlet to leave me. J's and S's snaking around the E's and A's. Numbers intermingling with comma's and periods. H's and P's sometimes dancing when they are made into happy words. Drooping and dark L's and D's when they are sad. Stomping P's and T's when they are angry and fat G's and O's when they are filled with life and love.

I wish I was a writer. One that could spin a tale, a web of intrigue, story of woe is me, or happy as can be. Stories filled with characters that I want to meet, wish I had known, wish I was.

I envy those that have a way with words. I know it isn't always easy, that it can be a painstaking process. A tedious tendency that won't leave you alone. What a claim to fame tho, to entertain, educate and fill with emotions that might not otherwise be felt.

I want those notebooks, to want to be in my bed with a box of bon bons and a glass of wine while my fingertips roll over the words that spilled from yours. I want the yellow strips that surround the words and sentences highlighting what is important to you. I want to see where you faltered, where you rushed, where you stopped and started.

Your words should never stop coming to my eyes.

Yep, I'm taking about you, the man that reads my blog.