I have wet hair; I’m cold and I’d like to nestle up against your warm skin.
I’d really like to use my fingertips to trace a few words as well. Like, Thank God on your chest or simply run them up and down your back or maybe something entirely more abstract along the rest of your body.
I’ve always been fond of words. How they can meticulously be organized in such a seemingly new way each time and disarranged again. Yet, never to have lost their source of power.
So it’s strange to think expressing oneself is such a difficult and daunting task. One of our greatest feats to say the least.
How I never quite feel like my own words are enough, when conversing with you, in particular. I can never get quite to my point, so I stop at “I Love You” and hope that that will suffice.
So I suppose I’ll continue to play with your spine and paint pretend pictures on my canvas that is You. I’ll pray that maybe one day, I’ll find some words that are universally brand new.
And arrange them to form into an expression I’m at last content with. And although they will be my best, they will only play such a role while I am with you.