Sometimes I wonder 

how to explain to you the inescapable dilemma of wanting to pen down prose that satisfies my heart.

Honest words that are buried deep within me, the ones I’m scared of because I know they are harsh, but sometimes truth is harsh. A bullet between your teeth that you don’t know whether you should spit out or swallow.
Words that I think will make your heart jump with joy or maybe will be the reason for your happy tears but I’m scared, scared to be labelled, “She is just a sweet talker.” Why am I so hesitant? If you see something beautiful you should speak up.
Abundant and ample words flowing delicately on these pages healing your wounds, caressing your scars. “She cares.”
I wish I could explain to you the tiny tug in my heart when I read other people’s words and the emotions they arouse in me. To explain to you my awe of their splendor, such delicate desirable words and I want to be able to do that to you.

But I don’t have the right words at least not right now.


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